The Adventures of the Clockwork Caravel

News for the Role-Players

2012-01-10T13:47:00.000-08:00

If you haven't been following on Twitter, it's official as of January 9th: work begins apace on a new iteration of the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons. Wizards of the Coast refuses as of yet to call it "5th Edition", but instead use the hashtag #dndnext.

The current 4th Edition has been controversial, to say the least. I didn't join the bandwagon for the primary reason that I was impressed with the major remodeling in version 3.0/3.5 (still not perfect of course, but what is?) and their Open Gaming License that unleashed the creativity of third-party publishers. Truth be told, it was hard enough to get my friends to try that game instead of the old Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 1st Edition which my generation of gamers has practically memorized.

When I thumbed through the 4E Players Handbook, I honestly did not like what I saw. I already had a cohesive gameworld written up from years of play, and I wasn't ready to add Half-Dragons as a standard race for players. Also, characters had "healing surges" (the equivalent of jumping up and saying "just a flesh wound!") which made Clerics far less important. The consensus among detractors is that it tries too hard to emulate online games like World of Warcraft, and tries too hard to balance out the powers of all player types. Others say 4e de-emphasizes the non-combat aspects of roleplaying to the point where it appeals more to wargamers. There has been a gradual inflation of powers over the editions, to the point that some complain it's harder than ever to actually challenge the players. To the point, there's a subgenre called #fourthcore (organized by @saveversusdeath) that specializes in ultra-deadly dungeons in the style of Tomb of Horrors.

WotC must have known they had a problem on their hands when Pazio's game Pathfinder, which is based off the 3.5 engine, won more awards than 4e. Add to that the growing popularity of the Old School Renaissance, a collection of gamers who seek to keep the older versions of D&D alive with retro-clones such as Basic Fantasy, Lords & Labyrinths, OSRIC and Lamentations of the Silver Princess. Dungeon Crawler Classics takes a wide left turn from the retro-clones, as I mentioned earlier.

A phenomenon that intrigues me as of late are the FLAILSNAILS Conventions. A sort of Brotherhood of Old-School Gamers With Cams. I watched an online game recently. With hyperlinked editable maps, character sheets, even dice-rolling programs, everyone was having fun. All we were missing was the pizza, junk food and soda!

I've volunteered to become a FLAILSNAILS Dungeon Master. I'm available most nights at 10pm EST (that's 7pm SLT for my virtual world friends) and would love to run a group of players through some of my old adventures!

Special thanks to @DreadGazeebo for hosting an online discussion on recent gaming events and the forces behind them. And yes, I will try 4e if you DM. I think an Artificer will do the trick...

As always, civil discourse is welcome below.

The Yearly Report

2011-12-31T14:34:00.000-08:00

Early in the year, the Bloodwing were ambushed were just outside the city of Cala Mondrago by the Daughters of Baba Yaga, a coven of witches that integrated captured alien technology into their eldritch magic. Bloodwing was kidnapped, but the Yaga ship was intercepted by Nova and Six just as the demon dealt vengeance to his captors. Ash was catapulted to a digital dimension by strange energies, and joined a rebellion in that world to prevent a genocide. Bloodwing realized he had been infected by a witch's curse soon after he boarded the Sixes and Sevens as his body quite literally fell to pieces.

When Bloodwing was returned to the site of the altercation, Qlippothic (who gave up a chance a becoming fully human to rescue her brother) and Koen used Bloodwing's remains to form a conduit through which Ash (and his fellow survivors of the failed resistance, dubbed the Digital Knights) returned to our world. Bloodwing cast a Homunculi ritual to turn his detached pieces into miniature versions of himself to wreak havoc on the witches alongside the Digital Knights.

As I was observing from afar, I failed to notice a "noob" avatar by the name of "Bishop3" sit next to me in the sandspeeder, and in typical outlander fashion refused to leave even when the Yaga ships returned for a pitched battle. Little did I know that Mr. Bishop3 was actually my clone-brother Marcus Gabriel Mason!

I had to sabotage my own vehicle to disarm Marcus and keep the sandspeeder from plowing through the city itself. Things went from bad to worse as Marcus's psychic essence transferred to Ash, who aimed his weapon at me. Qli fired from a distance, destroying Ash's frame. However, Ash had self-ejected his hard drive into the sand nanoseconds before the moment of impact, and Marcus had likewise fled the doomed construct's body.

It was a Phyrric victory. Half of the Digital Knights had fallen, and just as we were surveying the carnage, the city of Cala Mondrago exploded before our eyes. The chained genii that powered the newest of the Steamlands revolted and turned the artificial oasis back into the dust from whence it came.

The flock of Bloodwing homunculi migrated to Steelhead, where Duchess Fauve Aeon used her stitchpunk magicks to resew the demon into a new bishoen form.

Just as we were catching our breath, we received word from my father that the Demon Wasps had hatched a new queen, and had opened a portal to conquer a nearby dimension. We boarded my ancestor's airship the Bloodwing's Revenge and tesseracted to that world, where we allied with Captain Helen de Fer of the pirate airship Dame de Fer and slew the gargantuan Queen of the Demon Wasps.

A few months later I was summoned to deal with a zombie-plague spreading through Steelhead. This was a curiously morphic affliction that managed to overcome even my own defenses, and I succumbed to the madness of Undeath. It took a time-travelling member of the Steelhead Air Force to shoot me with an antidote from my own inoculation gun!

After using the new serum to cure the rest of Steelhead, I returned to New Babbage to investigate a time-travelling artifact warning about something called the Dark Aether. Since the entire city seems to be coordinating on solving this issue, I took a hiatus to regain my strength.

Now, it saddens me to relate...

Last week, Ash had located the factory where the Daughters of Baba Yaga were building their attack craft in the Siberian wastes. Qlippothic, Ash, Koen, Bloodwing and Xavael, along with the remaining contingent of Digital Knights assaulted the factory and destroyed it. However, there were losses on our side.

The Clockwinder informed me that a faraway explosion had unbalanced some of his pendulums. He pointed Northeast. My instruments confirmed a seismic disruption from the site of the factory. After Bloodwing destroyed Baba Yaga, the factory self-destructed in a ball of atomic fire. The Bloodwing's Revenge barely escaped the blast zone, but the far-reaching electromagnetic pulse obliterated the surviving Digital Knights. Qlippothic and Koen stayed behind in an attempt to disarm the self-destruct mechanism. I must assume they tesseracted away before the explosion. But they could be anywhere and anywhen. I can do nothing but wait for them to return.

As always, we hope you have enjoyed the tales of our adventures. And as we say before the start of every year, our greatest adventures are yet to come!

Sincerest Wishes,

Dr. Darien James Mason

P.S. I also published a story in Tales of New Babbage Volume I. Profits go to maintaining the city. GO BUY IT!

Happy Holidays to You and Yours!

2011-12-23T21:46:00.001-08:00

Happy Chanukah and Merry Christmas!

I received the most wonderful gift today...

A copy of Tales of New Babbage Volume 1, with a retelling of my story "The Sulphurstick Girl"! All proceeds go to the server costs of the city! A perfect stocking-stuffer for your little urchins, in addition to the lump of coal she's been begging you for!

The Pendulum Swings Back: Dungeon Crawl Classics

2011-11-12T04:11:00.000-08:00

Locked away securely in the Special Library of the Arcanum are pages from an obscure and ancient tome that records a time before monks and sorcerers and psionicists and artificers. Before half-orcs and half-elves and gnomes were known to Man. Because it is incomplete, it is known as the Nth Appendix of the Lore of Sötu.

Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC) by @GoodmanGames is a D20 system devolved to it's 1974 origins. No Feats, no multiclassers, demihumans are classes unto themselves. Critical hit and miss tables and spectacular spell fumbles abound. Should your player survive his origins as a peasant recruit (highly unlikely...bring a mob!) and learn magic, your player cannot customize the magic. The magic customizes you.

I will be running a beta-test starting in December. The game itself is available in February, along with mutations such as the d14 and d17 (I actually did own a d30!) I will be recording the results.

The Strange Case of the Writer of New Babbage

2011-11-06T17:15:00.000-08:00

I was happy to be a part of the cure the Steelhead epidemic, even if indirectly. Future-Mindy had the antibodies in her blood with which to devise a vaccine to that particular strain. After that mishap, I was eager to return to my research in the comparatively quiet environs of the Wulfenbach Consulate in New Babbage (and possibly escape the wrath of Tensai and her explosives).

However, when I reached the smog-clouded port of New Babbage, I soon that there was some sort of emergency. There were a fraction of the usual revelers at the local tavern. And for revelers, they were quite dour and heavily armed. I was ready to quietly pass by when I over heard them complaining about time-travelers. That certainly got my attention.

They told me that a construct appeared in the Town Hall, whom they called The Writer. It immediately began scribing a tale, last page first. In that tale, the local heroes...Mayor Tenk, Chief Urchin Loki, and in this case I stretch the term to its limit by including Dr. Obolensky, as well as the fellows in that tavern were fighting an unearthly force called the Dark Aether. Even with the full might of Dr. O's mecha, Lord Smashington III, New Babbage fell, with the sole hope being a time machine sent back to warn us.

Already elements of the story have come to pass. Hordes of one-eyed crustaceans with claws that can rip through timbers have assaulted the townsfolk. The clergy of the local Church of the Builder have designed energy "blunderbusses" to stop them, apparently without the knowledge that their inventions were already described by the Writer's pages. According to the Writer, the next wave to attack Babbage will include kraken-like creatures from the deep, and a gloating, barely humanoid arch-nemesis.

I summoned Nova Sakigake and her companion, now known as Doctor Six. I showed them the Writer and its works, and asked them what conclusions they could draw from both their chronometric experience and depth of knowledge of the Mythos.

While there was insufficient information to pin the Dark Aether behind a previously known threat, Nova was able to suggest some weapon blueprints for dealing with the monsters. Examining the Writer and his prose, I have drawn the following conclusions:

The Writer appears to be made by a local Spark from locally abundant resources, possibly from the Clockwinder himself. I daresay it appears to be hastily made. It does not respond to stimuli except to rewrite its tale, adding more to the beginning until, it is assumed, our timeline and its own point of origin intersect. The story is...not edited well. There are misspellings and incorrect punctuation, as if the tale was dictated and hastily written. I noted the word "colour", we can assume the author is not American.

There was no mention of either the Masons or the Wulfenbachs, somewhat out of character for both of our organizations to be absent in a crisis of this magnitude. Could the Writer be from the same timeline as Future-Mindy, where the Masons were relegated to jailers of "Necropolis!Steelhead"?

Perhaps it's time to dive the Bloodwing's Revenge into the ocean depths and intercept the inhuman mastermind behind the Dark Aether before it reaches the city.

Artwork: Dr. Mason and the Absinthe Fairy by @dechanique

2011-10-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

Commissioned and drawn at Interventioncon 2011 by Deanna Echanique, the same lady who designed my current icon. If you're not reading her steampunk/fantasy/erotica series La Macchina Bellica, bloody well you should when you get home from work!

Steelhead: Necropolis Now!

2011-10-22T17:06:00.000-07:00

I cannot tell you when the plague finally overcame me. It was a seamless transition in my delirium from caring for my single patient to caring for everyone else that would soon succumb. If this contagion is unstoppable, as I feared, we need to establish a graveyard. As is the case for the Haitian variety of zombie, the first one to establish themselves in a cemetery (prime real estate) is called the Baron. And if Patient Zero refuses to take responsibility for leading those he has infected...

"I was the first to call a town meeting in Steelhead, and so shall I be the last! A new dusk arrives for this, our fair city! Now for our agenda!"

The room was quiet save for the echoes of my own ranting. I knew it would soon be standing room only.

"Motion one! The dead shall rise and walk among the living! Resolved! Motion two! The dead shall rise and eat the living! In progress!"

Though my vision was starting to blur sightly, I could see the Founder staring through the window, his arms crossed grimly.

"What's the matter, Old Man?" I shouted. "Why won't you come in? Prior agreements? Oh such a pity! Qlippothic and Ash won't stop me...I can override them! Koen and Amarantis? Let them join me by my side! Where's your precious angel, I wonder? Cowering in his Shanghai tower?"

He gave no response. Still as a statue.

"No matter. Time for a bit of old-fashioned necromancy!"

I lifted the huge tome bound in questionable hide and lowered it with a heavy thump on the podium. Frost grew in delicate lattices across the windows soon after I opened the pages.

"Let me see...ah, there it is. Lichdom!"

My voice strained through the opening syllables, but I could invoke the final request in English.

"Ancient spirits of Evil! Transform this decayed..."

"Floppy Dong!" shouted a voice from the main entrance.

I slammed the book shut immediately. This was not the sort of ritual that tolerated foolish pranks.

"YOU!" I pointed to the short redhead in the airshipman's uniform who stood at the doorway to the meeting hall. "You're not dead yet! Come back later!"

"I'm afraid this can't wait...Doctah Mushtash. We made a pinky-promise, remember? Qlippothic sent me back in time to make sure it comes true."

"What? What pink..." I noticed the glimmer of the steel washer I had neglected to remove. "Oh MINDY! Oh how sweet! You seem to have been cured! A marvelous testament to my medical skills! Now please, go back to your own timeline. Hell, take little Mindy with you before I decide to paradox you out of existence myself!"

She lifted a weapon and aimed it towards me. The glow of the serum chambers were brighter and bluer than my traditional formula, but there was no doubt it was an inoculation pistol. My own pistol!

"Oh I see how this goes!" I climbed over the podium and stared down at her, with the full hunger of the undead rising to the surface. "Didn't I ever tell you that Masons never get happy endings?"

The next moment it felt like an elephant had slapped me on the neck with its trunk, and I fell to the ground writhing. When I came to, it was she who was staring down me. I could not help but notice the washer on a chain around her neck.

"You look better already."

"Did you have to aim for the carotid?"

Steelhead: Quarantine

2011-10-16T13:53:00.000-07:00

Bloodwing's eyes glowed like embers, piercing the darkness of this cloud-enshrouded night.

"I would barely call this a pestilence, Seventh Son. The symptoms vary wildly rom one soul to the next. This has all the signs of a curse."

I nodded quietly from behind the Soul Mask that the Founder recovered.

"Any sign of Loki?"

"The scamp who unleashed this havoc? Not yet. Xavael is circling the city to find him."

"But I must..."

"No." Bloodwing drew his blade halfway out of the scabbard. "Stay here with your fellow patient. Putter with your alchemy if you think you can find another clue. Perhaps you can find another ingredient for your precious serum so it will actually work this time. But you shall not infect infect another soul. If I wanted to live in the land of the walking dead I would have stayed in Erebus."

He slammed the door in my face before I could scream at him and dredge up one of his many failures, for which he may very well have cut me down on the spot. I simmered silently in rage at myself for not being careful enough. For refusing to believe that someday a plague would come for which even the famous Mason Reanimation Formula would not protect me from.

There was a single candle casting shadows about the room. Our eyes had grown to bleary to stand any more.

"Doctah Mushtash?" The young girl coughed and whimpered.

I returned to her sie, and used an alcohol-soaked towel to wipe another droplet of black pestilence from her mouth. Her sunken eyes stared balefully back at me.

"Are we dead?"

"I've died several times, child. This isn't death. And it's Dr. Mason, by the way."

She trembled beneath her sheets.

"Mindy. I want you to wear this. It will keep you safe." I removed the skull-like mask from face and placed it over her.

"Doctah Mason? You..look worse than me. Are you sure?"

I couldn't feel my face anymore. I suppose that's a blessing.

"I'm a lot older than I looked, Mindy. That serum I tried on you...it's helped keep me young all these years. But now it's not working. Time is catching up with me."

"I don't want you to die!'

I squeezed her gray, cold hand. My own hand seemed almost as thin as hers at this point.

"I am as scared as you are. But we will make it through this."

"Pinky-swear?"

"I'm not familiar with...ah...if you insist. Yes. Pinky-swear, then."

"Doctah Mason? What's your first name?"

"It's Darien, Mindy. Darien James Mason."

"Darien...can you keep a secret?"

I nodded. I leaned towards the dresser. Through cracked and shriveled lips a somehow drew enough breath to extinguish the candle.

Infection: Steelhead

2011-10-11T20:17:00.001-07:00

Begin dictation.

Summoned the laboratory where the outbreak was created. Both scientific and mystical tools involved. Took *sneeze* samples, catalogued tomes in area of accident that were still legible. Summoned an imp to neutralize stagnant energies.

Profile compiled from *sneeze* psychic imprints and manifested in aether-hologram:
Patient Zero: Loki Gearhead
Race: Dark Elf
Talents: Spark/Mage
Symptoms: Necrosis, Depression.
Subject is at large and contagious. Spreading rapidly among local *sneeze* Excuse me...scamp population.

Patient: *cough* Mindy
Race: Human
Symptoms: Nausea (black, oily residue), Necrosis
First treatment: Reanimation Serum, maximum dose for height/weight ratio. Momentar *cough* effective, then necrosis resumed.

Second treatment: Healing invocations. No visible effect. *sneeze*

Ordered equipment shipped in from New Babbage Consulate laboratory. *sneeze* No apparent link between this outbreak and previous New Babbage epidemics.

No predatory/carnivorous *cough* behavior reported, but Loki displays cunning in avoiding capture.

Request assistance from all Masons and allies in capt....*coughing fit*

End *wheeze* dictation...

The Dolls and the Caravel

2011-07-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

The crew of the Bloodwing’s Revenge, her namesake and her foes are the property of Mason Labs.

The Dame de Fer, her crew, and the world they sail across are the property of The Clockwork Dolls.

Miles over the wild frontier of the Pacific Northwest, the Dame de Fer hovered as crewmen frantically crawled over the hull on support cables. Sparks jumped and carried in the wind as the engineers welded patches over the smashed portholes..

There was an emergency meeting in Emma Wilhelm’s sick bay. Captain Helene de Fer crossed her arms, nonchalantly covering a reddening bandage on her arm where a bullet had grazed her but an hour before. She glared at the inhuman corpse reeking of sulfur that lay on the dissection table. The Science Officer, Allison Curval, peered down at the creature’s head through the array of lenses suspended from the ceiling. She stared squarely at its face and her features were reflected back in the creature’s bulbous, multifaceted eyes. Those tissues of the torso and abdomen that had not been ripped apart by the barrage of bullets and flurry of fierce blades were methodically sliced and arranged in a set of metal trays by Miss Wilhelm.

“What can I tell you that we haven’t figured out already, Captain? These things are more like wasps the size of humans than anything else.”

“Wasps with tools,” interrupted Curval. “Mr. McGregor and Mr. Bass have examined their weapons. They are newly constructed from die-cast metal and designed for their own species, and not human hands. The guns use a caliber no one else uses. As accurate as they were in shooting, a lack of sights on their guns suggests either lifelong training or their optical construction makes it unnecessary.”

Black Jack Jezebel was eavesdropping from just outside the door. “They’re fast. But their swordplay stinks.”

“What about the poison?” Helene scowled. “We’ve got a dozen crewmen on respirators!”

“It is not the same as common wasp venom,” Wilhelm answered. “I could have countered that a while ago. Until the chemical analysis is complete, I can only treat the symptoms.”

Captain de Fer flipped the switch for the speaker on the wall beside her and hailed the bridge. “Mr. Park! What’s the chatter on the airwaves? Has anyone else seen these things?”

A pop of static, and a response: “It was all treated as drunken hogwash until bigger ships started vanishing. Then there was a CQD from an Imperial Cruiser about a Swarm...”

“But these things don’t even have a SHIP!” shouted de Fer.

“Captain Gilbertsen reported a...floating beehive...over the Oregon Territories. They barely escaped…heavy casualties.”

De Fer frowned. Gilbertsen’s Trireme was one of the few ships fast enough to pursue the Dame de Fer.

“Another update, Captain...” Bas continued. “You may want to hear this yourself...”

A few seconds of static, and a man’s voice was heard across the ether.

“...to repeat, this is Dr. Darien Mason, Medical Officer on board the Bloodwing’s Revenge, controlled by Captain Qlippothic Projects.”

“Never heard of them,” muttered de Fer.

“Our ship has engaged and defeated the Demon Wasps on a previous occasion, and we are now en route to intercept the Wasp hive-ship. I ask any battle-worthy vessels hearing this transmission to assist. The only payment we can offer at this time is the antidote for their venom, which I shall now broadcast...”

Wilhelm reached for the quill and pen on the desk by the dissection table.

“The following assumes the victim is an adult weighing 150 pounds. Take 23 grams of charcoal...”

The recipe was drowned out by the screech of tearing metal.

A metallic and female voice rang over the din. “Father! Ash reports the swarm has overrun suppression fire. Now engaged in close combat.”

“Hold them off as long as you can. Qli!”

De Fer turned to stare up at the loudspeaker. “Get me the coordinates of that transmission!”

Curval furrowed her brow in thought. “A Level Three android?”

“Now where was I?” sputtered the transmission.

“The CHARCOAL!” yelled Wilhelm at the speaker.

“Oh yes! Take 23 grams of...”

The rest of the broadcast was drowned out by the drone of insect wings.

“Captain? Bas here. We’ve lost transmission, but we narrowed their location down to the Puget Sound area.”

The captain squeezed past Curval and Wilhelm towards the door. “Then that’s where we’re going! We need that antidote!”

Dr. Mason slammed down the headphones on the Marconi transmitter.

“BLAST IT! They’re jamming the transmission!”

From the journal of Dr. Mason ~

After a hurried restock of supplies and armaments, the restored and upgraded Revenge sailed across Absolute Elsewhere in pursuit of the new Wasp Queen. We have tesseracted to the Queen’s final destination. It is a world where the British Empire crushed the American Revolution (or Rebellion as the victors call it). Our scanners tell us the creature is in the Pudget Sound area, right where our hometown of Steelhead City should be. Our Steelhead is built over deposits of unique minerals with antigravitational properties; a prerequisite for a proper airship fleet. After our first encounter with the species over the site that is destined to become the metropolis of Seraph City, I cannot dismiss it as coincidence. This must be the strategy of their species.

About ourselves...the Revenge itself is a true anachronism, as one would expect from a time-jumping vessel. It was the first Renaissance galleon fitted for flight, and now it sports 20th century upgrades (none of the digital nonsense, mind you) and 19th century furnishings (my personal touch). Our crew consists of myself, my firstbuilt daughter Qlippothic (Captain), my construct son Ash (Armaments), and my biological son Koen (Navigation). Perhaps I should mention that Koen, like his mother, is of the species homo sapiens tigris. He inherited his mother’s Bloodtail fur pattern…black with red digitgrade paws, and red tips on the ears and tail. To the best of our knowledge, Koen is the last of the Bloodtail tribe.

Above deck, a female shape in a shell of brass silently held fast to the wheel at the bow. At the stern, a universal turret, equipped with a huge rotating cannon, continued to track and hit the invaders spiraling around the vessel. By this time, the operator had shifted from automatic fire to single shots to save on ammunition.

The Swarm had begun to overwhelm the Tesla field generated by the masts (“energy sails” as the inventor below deck called them). Individual drones were now slipping through undamaged. However, the opportunists were quickly dispatched by bullets fired by a blur of red and black fur weaving between the masts. Koen spun as a wasp rushed at him from a blind spot. The Neko snarled,and dropped his empty revolver. In the blink of an eye he leaped on the giant insect tearing its bony limbs out of its sockets. The drone’s clumsy-looking pistol and the claw that held it spun across the boards.

“WE’VE BEEN BOARDED!” roared Koen.

“Adjusting tactics.” The brass woman’s ruby eyes blazed as she spoke. She did not flinch as the blade of a straight sword sliced through her neck. With a loud clang, her head fell to her feet, and the fire in her eyes quickly extinguished.

The wasp lunged and wrapped its four arms tightly around the metal torso. It thrust its mandibles down into the opening of the neck. Its hiss echoed inside the shell for only a moment before a jet of flame shot straight into its face. The creature dropped like a stone, still clutching the smoking shell in its arms.

Something pushed out the panel under the wheel, and a pale, lithe woman clad in loose silks and sturdy leathers crawled out. She had a small cylindrical boiler fused to the small of her back, radiating twin rivulets of steam from the exhaust pipes jutting upwards from the sides. She drew two clockwork pistols from her boots as she stood.

“That’s no way to treat a lady...especially a pirate captain!” smirked Qlippothic as she fired a shot between the antennae of another wasp that was drawing aim at her. She spun to witness a dozen wasps crawling over the turret at the other end of the ship. Suddenly the turret expanded, revealing massive metal arms and articulated hands as large as cannonballs.

The words “COMMENCING MELEE” rumbled across the deck as the metal arms snatched the offending insects off of the juggernaut’s frame and crushed them in its grip. The turret rose on colossal iron legs from a crouching position and summarily flattened a wasp that raised its firearms at the human-shaped construct operating the turret-turned-exoskeleton from within.

Meanwhile, Koen had pinned another foe’s thorax to the main mast. His other paw held the drone’s pistol-wielding claw immobile. He bent his knee so his back paw could push against the insect’s upper left claw, which clenched the hilt of a crude sword. Even in this state, the wasp had two lower limbs free, and snapped wildly at Koens face. The Neko bared his fangs and sank them into the claw that nearly gouged out one of his eyes. He growled something with alarm as the insect thrashed about wildly and loosed the equivalent of a shriek from its mandibles.

Koen heard the trap door open behind him. “Case of enchanted rapiers! Two for one sale!” A straight, shimmering blade ran through the drone’s skull between the eyes, silencing it. Koen took a step back and pulled the hilt free. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Don’t mention it!” Dr. Mason gripped the blade of the other rapier in his chainmail shrapnel glove. He waited for Qlippothic to slide one pistol into her belt before hurling the blade at her. Qli snatched the sword as it flew.

“Get below deck, Father!”

“And miss all the fun? RUBBISH!” The doctor was dressed in his combat medic gear: a soldier’s uniform and helmet adorned with the red cross that he had proudly worn decades before. In his right hand he held his inoculation pistol against his white apron. He lifted a bonesaw from where it hung at his belt, next to a large pair of shears and an assortment of large-bore hypodermic needles. He carried several small, buttoned pouches as well as an array of dark bottles strapped to his bandoleer.

“Now, my dear children!” His radium goggles glimmered as his smile stretched nearly as wide as his bold mustache. “Let’s cause some triage!” He looked back and forth across the deck: it was littered with the remains of the enemy drones. “BOLLOCKS!” He threw down his bonesaw. “I haven’t had a decent battle since the last zombie epidemic in New Babbage!”

Qli deftly leaped over the corpses to join Darien and Koen. “Our shields should have held longer. The swarm was absorbing our energy.”

“Waste not, want not...” the doctor continued, “...they’ll risk hundreds of drones to disassemble a ship as it soars rather than destroy it outright.”

Koen noticed the sky turning dark, and craned his neck to watch the sun painting the western sky as it set over the clouds below them. “Which...they will probably do. We’re outmanned...again!” His ears pulled back and his voice broke into desperation as he kicked a wasp’s head off the deck of the ship.

Dr. Mason leaned in and stared straight into his son’s feline eyes. “Koen! Calm down! The last thing we need...”

“AIRSHIP SIGHTED OFF STARBOARD BOW.” The searchlight mounted on Ash’s exo-unit pierced the thickening darkness. The hull of a much larger ship grew closer. Dr. Mason adjusted his radium goggles until he made out the name painted on the hull.

“Dame de Fer, eh? This is the so-called Pirate Queen we’ve heard about. Stay calm...”

He squinted as several searchlights blinked on and blazed back at them, scanning the carnage on board their deck as well as the flags on their mast...the 13 Stars and Stripes. The tartan flag of Caledon. The dark blue naval flag of Steelhead. The crossed wrench and hammer of New Babbage. Above them all the gold flag with a black ziggurat, backed by red batlike wings and crowned with a red flame: The emblem of House Bloodwing.

Qli watched the crew assembled on deck. “The one in the red jacket is a construct,” she whispered.

Koen grinned and muttered back. “And the one in the middle has big...YOW!” He shivered as someone yanked on his tail.

“Ahoy! I am Captain Helene de Fer, and this vessel is the Dame de Fer!”

“I am Captain Qlippothic Projects of the Bloodwing’s Revenge! Please state your intentions!”

The deck of the de Fer descended to the same level as the Revenge. “We need an antidote! You need an exterminator! Do we have a deal?”

Qlippothic focused on the flags of the other ship’s mast. An iron rose. And a familiar flag of a crushed rebellion...

“Deal...ACCEPTED!”

Dr. Mason’s Journal~

After a quick discussion between the Captains of our two vessels, Koen and I boarded the de Fer with several crates of the Wasp venom antidote. The First Mate, one Allison Curval, boarded the Revenge with enough ammunition to replenish all or our weapons. With all three androids on one airship, we sidestep the grim mathematics of rationing the antidote between the two ships. Well, except for a small dose for Miss Curval’s pet.

Allison helped Qli lock the shell into the breach of the last cannon. As they rose, Allison noticed the framed parchment bolted securely to the mast.

“A letter of marque from...General Washington?”

“A century ago,” Qlippothic explained as she bolted one of the many wood-and-metal consoles lining the helm back in its place, “the Masons helped repel the British fleet. In return, they were granted a plantation outside of Baltimore and a blind eye to their experiments...”

Qli was interrupted by the sound of a Scottish Terrier scratching at the bulkhead, standing up on two feet to almost reach the water spigot with his paws.

“Sparkplug!” Allison scooped up her pet in her arms. “That’s not for you! I brought some water on board just for you!

Sparkplug whimpered, looking back...

“Holy water?”

“Absolutely, Miss Wilhelm! It’s a primary component of the Demon Wasp antidote! Did you think demon was just a figure of speech?”

The Chief Medical Officer’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent as she and Dr. Mason helped a previously comatose patient to his feet.

“It’s easy enough to make, for Heaven’s sake, no pun intended...”

Behind them, a woozy midshipman was sitting up in bed for the first time in days, complaining to Shelby Jennings that he desperately needed a drink.

“...you must have a chaplain on board, don’t you?”

Wilhelm took a deep breath. “And you said you have an entire tank of holy water on your vessel?”

“Well yes...normally it’s for drinking water, but considering what we were going up against... We were going to ask the nuns of the local S.W.A.T. Team for several gallons, but then I remembered a merchant in Steelhead’s Shanghai district...”

Wilhelm waved her hands to interrupt. “So you’re telling me that wherever this Steamlands place you’re from is crawling with demons and undead? And your constables are also NUNS? What else do you have?” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Elves and werewolves?”

“Oh yes! Especially at the town hall meetings!” He grinned wryly. She was certain he winked at her from behind his goggles.

Later that night...

Ash seemed to emerge from between the shadows as the wings of his flight pack folded back into themselves. “Wasp Queen spotted at top of Mt. St. Helens. Undergoing extensive upgrades.”

“Upgrades?” asked his sister. “Explain.”

“The drones were welding salvage of the ships they destroyed onto her natural armor. Both shielding and weaponry. I believe they were experimenting with engine integration as well.”

Allison and Qli were both soon flashing spotlight messages back to the Dame de Fer in their respective codes.

Dr. Mason and Captain de Fer watched the signals silently.

“Qli says we should strike immediately. Before the Queen upgrades further.”

“Allison agrees.” She lowered her binoculars and tapped her nails on the railing of the ship. She turned, and strode to the intercom and flipped the switch.

“BATTLESTATIONS!”

The crew of the Dame de Fer rushed about the ship, and Koen scrambled from one side of the deck to the other as sailors hurried in all directions. All of the sailors as well as Koen wore a black armband containing a vial of greenish fluid.

“Remember!” shouted Dr. Mason, “I’ve given each of you one dose of antivenin!” He pointed to the band on the Captain’s arm. “If someone can’t press the injector, do it for them! I have a few extra doses, but I can’t be everywhere at once!”

Koen frantically climbed up a pipe and wrapped his arms tightly around it to remove himself from the sailors below.

“HEY! Where am I s’posed ta go?”

The roar of engines coupled with the thunder of massive wings echoed for miles as the gigantic shape of the Wasp Queen crested the mountaintops. Scores of drones crawled over her augmented shell on all sides in defiance of gravity, their claws cranking and pulling stolen weaponry into position. Six segmented legs hung from her body ending in wickedly barbed spikes. Her bulbous segmented eyes seemed to absorb all light around them, coating them in a sheen as dark as kraken’s ink. Tremendous mandibles sharp enough to slice a man in half snapped angrily. Behind her, a stinger the size of a ship’s mast glistened with poison, twitching in search of a victim to impale.

Captain de Fer watched the Queen’s advance from the bridge. “She dresses up like a ship? We’ll take her down like one! Fire at will!”

With a shout of “FIRE!” from Erzabeth Delore, a volley from the Dame de Fer illuminated the landscape. A wide shot shattered the crest of a mountaintop, starting a small avalanche of boulders. A hit to the Queen’s port side dislodged a cannon and dispersed a cluster of unconscious drones to their death on the jagged peaks.

The Bloodwing’s Revenge, being a smaller and faster ship, took a wide arc and flanked the Queen. Ash and Allison strafed the Queen from their gun turrets at the aft and stern.

Onboard the Dame de Fer, the bridge crew strapped themselves down as the Queen’s weapons ricocheted loudly off her hull. “RAMMING SPEED!” screamed Captain de Fer.

“Aye, Captain!” Bas pulled the lever setting engines to full.

Dr. Mason rose from his seat, lowering his goggles a moment to blink at the size of their incoming foe. “She...she seems to be charging us as well...”

“SIT DOWN, Doctor...” She wrapped a hand around his web belt and pulled him back into his seat.

“Full speed!” Shouted Bas.

“We’re playin’ chicken with a giant wasp?” Koen peeked from behind his father’s seat with concern.

“It seems so. Brace for...”

With the deafening screech torn steel the mandibles ripped through the armor of the Dame de Fer. The crew on the bridge dove for cover as the monster’s jaws gouged their way through the hull. (Find a way to restructure this so as to not use ‘bridge’ twice.) Bernard Jackson drew his pistol and fired at the beast as it plucked Captain de Fer from her seat.

“OH NO YA DON’T!” Koen leaped onto one the mandibles and drove his hind-claws against the opposite jaw, trying in vain to pry them apart as the Captain struggled.

Several crew members bolted for the shattered window, only to be halted by a flood of invading drones. Muzzle flashes and gunshots rang throughout the cabin before blades were drawn, and the battle was joined.

“...by charging her head-on we mimicked the behavior of a rival Queen, and she’s responded in kind!” lectured Dr. Mason as he decapitated a drone with a swipe of his bonesaw.

“And she cracks open the loser like a bloody coconut?” Shouted Jessica as she reloaded her shotgun.

“More or less...” The doctor slapped the armband on a fallen sailor whose face had begun to swell from the venom. He took a deep gasp or air, and his skin turned from beet red to a more natural shade.

Meanwhile, Koen had wrapped half his body (as well as his tail) around one of the insect’s jaws, despite the jagged edges. He glanced back at the Dame de Fer. The Wasp Queen had curled over the ship’s bow and was sinking her claws into the hull. He felt the direction of the wind against his red and black fur.

“The ship’s still pushing forwards, but barely. The Queen ain’t gonna let go until she...”
Snapping his head back just in time, he snatched the Queen’s tongue, a long thin and hollow tube, as it darted towards the Captain, intercepting it inches from her face.

“You got any guns on ya?” shouted the Neko over the roar of massive wings.

“Yes! In my boots!”

She kicked her feet upwards. Koen wrapped a back claw around the handle of one of the firearms and slid it out of her leather boot, passing it to her. He cocked his head, noting how the deadly mandibles hadn’t pierced her bodice.

“That’s one helluva girdle...” he murmured. He flinched as she blasted the monster’s tongue, severing it. He grimaced and dropped the appendage.

From the Bloodwing’s Revenge, Allison Curval watched her captain struggle in the creature’s grasp.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She unbelted herself and stood. Qlippothic pulled the lever that lowered the ladder to reach the deck.

“But of course.” Qli responded. Sparkplug whimpered as he watched her owner ascend.

Ash had resumed his role as tail-gunner, clamping himself over the stern as he picked off drones scrambling across the Queen’s back. Allison leaped from the bow of the ship, sword drawn. She landed on the Queen’s thorax, which was bent at a steep angle as the monster wrapped herself around the Dame de Fer. Allison scrambled her way up towards the monster’s head, slashing and stabbing at any drone that got in her way.

Onboard the Revenge, Sparkplug paced the cabin of the ship. Qlippothic ignored him, as she was busy piloting the ship. He stood on his hind legs and howled. A cannon on the Queen’s back struck her hull mere feet from where Ash had staked his position on the stern. His fifteen-foot tall exoskeleton still held a chunk of the alchemically treated wooden hull in its hand as he tumbled from the ship. His exo crashed onto the Queen’s back, crushing the two drones manning the light Gatling gun they were aiming at Allison.

The Revenge listed on its port side. Sparkplug let out a yipe as his he was thrown across the cabin. His front legs caught on the lever before he fell. As he dangled from it, his weight pulled it downwards.

The underside of the Revenge opened, dropping thousands of gallons of water over Ash and Allison.

Qli was able to stabilize the ship after the loss of her cargo. “There was enough water in the hold to cure thousands of victims!” she scolded. “Now we...Oh? Interesting...the drones are...dissolving.”

Not only were the drones melting like wax, leaving only their weapons behind as they drained away. The armor and cannons bolted to the Queen’s shell buckled and toppled as the shell they were bolted to bubbled and dissolved. The Queen’s shriek echoed for miles.

“Very holy water indeed...” Allison mused as she rose, her clothes throughly drenched.

“Especially if the angel was still in it.”

“What...?” Allison stared uncomprehendingly at the winged figure in a white robe hovering beside her. “How…who are you?”

“I am Xavael.”

“WE COULD USE SOME HELP UP HERE!” shouted Helene and Koen as they both clung for dear life to the Queen’s snapping jaws.

Just as the Captain’s arms slipped, she was momentarily blinded by a sudden radiance. A pair of hands found her wrists, and she clasped her rescuer’s wrists in return. She opened her eyes and saw her ship, the hull gashed open in several places, but still skyworthy. She heard the rush of wings and looked up.

“Hello, Captain. I take it you don’t see angels around here very often?”

She shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I’ll drop you off on the bridge.”

“YOU’LL COME BACK FOR ME, RIGHT?” Shouted Koen.

Scores of drones roared past the angel and the Captain. Koen used Helen’s second pistol he had pulled from her boot (and was ready to pass to her) to shoot a drone that was closing in on him. The wasp dropped like a stone.

“Their Queen has been injured,” Xavael explained to Captain de Fer. “They’ve abandoned the raid to save her. Ah, there’s your crew. From here they seem a bit...”

“Flabbergasted?”

“I was going to refer to their hygiene, but yes.”

Allison watched the Dame de Fer grow smaller in the sky.

“The Queen is losing altitude.” She steadied herself. What once was a steep climb was now almost level. “At this trajectory...”

“We will crash soon,” interrupted Ash as he pointed at the incoming swarm, “If we do not escape immediately.” He had already extricated himself from his battle suit, which was now billowing torrents of steam. Batlike wings snapped open from hidden panels in his shoulder-blades. “Allow me?”

“Why certainly.” Allison jumped into Ash’s arms, and light distorted around them until they vanished.

The exoskeleton Ash left behind was soon completely obscured by the surviving drones hovering around it.

Koen heard the exo-suit explode, and saw the flames billow. That very moment he was thrown upwards when the Queen’s neck went slack.

“Not again!” he wailed as he struggled to keep level as he fell. “Alright, I can do this. I’m a cat...I’m a cat...falling is no big YAAAAHHH NO I CAN’T! FOUNDER HELP ME! BLOODWING! BLOODWING! BLOODWI...”

He felt the wind knocked out of him as outstretched crimson wings swooped in and snatched him in mid-fall.

“You called?”

Koen could barely make out the familiar pale features through the shock and pain...the flashes of red and black on the demon’s face formed a new but still unmistakable pattern.

“Hey Pops..new body already, huh? It looks good on you...” Koen lost consciousness as the exiled Prince of Erebus descended to the deck of the ship that bore his name and the flag of his dynasty.

“Another two seconds and you would have landed on the deck,” he informed the Neko. The Elder shook his head when he noticed Koen was not awake to listen. He watched the colossal frame of the Wasp Queen tumble downwards with a spiral of smoke behind her. The Founder drew in his wings as the satisfying sound of the Queen’s impact reached his ears.

“Well done, Koen.” He turned his face to the sun. He watched the angel fold his wings and disappear inside the shattered window of the Dame de Fer's bridge. “So that is where Xavael went...”

“...so after I heard the hatch shut above me, I realized I was trapped inside the water tank...” continued Xavael, who was lecturing the staring crew on the bridge of the Dame de Fer. “...I could have forced my way out, of course, but any aggression on my part would have ruined the very enchantment I was...?” He paused and nodded to the tall gentleman in the kilt. “Yes?”

“Are we s’posed to get on our knees an’ start prayin’?”

Xavael looked down at his sandals uncomfortably and drew in his wings. “Not to me...”

An excerpt from the journal of Qlippothic Projects...

...Officer Curval and I spoke at length in private while our crews celebrated. We discussed the conflicts that every sentient construct must someday address: Programmed duty versus innate freewill. The desire to lead human lives like the ones that built us, in defiance of the knowledge we may very well survive our builders. Perhaps by generations. Perhaps the entire species. Yes, we are both blessed to have people who treat us as family. How could I have been so foolish to ask if she thought there was only room for romantic love among our own kind? How was I to know she was only one of four? And that she was the only one that was truly free?

An excerpt from Dr. Mason’s journal...

...after having exchanged a basket of the most delicious scones from Miss Lovelace for the First Mate’s pet, our crew folded space and began the tesseraction back to the Agni Sector. I certainly wish the crew of the Dame de Fer the best in their struggle to break the yoke of Imperial domination. However, just in case I slipped their ship’s Spark, a fellow by the name of Mr. Thom, a hypermap with the dimensional coordinates of the Steamlands...

An excerpt from Koen Mason’s journal...

Oh yeah, she was so into me! She scratched me behind my ears and everything! We coulda gone all night if Velvel hadn’t…

An excerpt from the journal of Velvel Danielovich…

…and I grabbed that miserable cat by his ear and pulled him out into the hallway! Sure, that angelic alter-ego of mine doesn’t hold a grudge, but I sure as Hell do! I had shipments coming to the Bazaar to sign for! I had a meeting with the Baron scheduled! I had some ex-tong members to interview for security detail! And I DISTINCTLY heard a cat laughing as the hatch slammed down on me!

An excerpt from the journal of Dr. Malegatto Alter…

…and that goody-two-shoes never saw it coming! MUAHAHA!!! Now, back to my experiments…

THE END

Resewn

2011-06-26T07:37:00.000-07:00

A flock of crimson wings flutters to the roof of a workshop. They gather into formation of what they once once were, and release their enchantment, falling again into components unmoving, but still harboring the the demon’s essence.

Fresh from a timeless time studying at the decaying knee of Mater Motley, Fauve gathers her spider silk and golden needle and, closing her round eyes with a sigh, dreams a terrible dream of a Demon, reanimated into the ghastly flesh. Humming a dissonant,wordless tune, her needle dances and flashes through the very sinews re-creating what should have never been to begin with...he lives again...the old one...

Bloodwing accepted the leathers offered from over the edge of the screen...made from the same material as his new wings. "Your work is flawless, Lady Fauve. I was right to seek your aid. I see you have left a proof-mark..."

"To ensure you remember my favor, Lost Prince."

"Fair enough. I..."

He was distracted a shower of sparks at his feet. He watched a roll of parchment reverse-burn its way into existence, complete with the glowing seal of Erebus. He claimed it, and stepped out from behind the screen.

"What is it?" Asked Fauve.

The demon opened the scroll. "A message from the Sixth Son. It is a week old...the magic could not find me until I was intact." He lowered the parchment and furrowed his brow. "Another Wasp Queen has been spotted. The directions to the world it escaped to are listed here...Qlippothic will need this."

Stand by, Devoted Readers, as Mason Labs prepares to enter the world of The Clockwork Dolls for a special CROSSOVER FAN-FICTION EVENT!

First priority

2011-06-16T19:10:00.001-07:00

The flock of homunculi that spread across the desert sands resembled the Elder, if he had been crossbred with something avian. The outlines of dozens of shadows that crossed over Koen and I revealed that much. The talons in place of feet and hands were the most obvious. Add to that the reptilian tails and extended fangs. The two that landed by us seemed to be unsure whether to hop like birds or crawl across the sands like a lizard, and seemed to settle for something in between.

One member of the flock landed on my shoulder. If sniffed at me, and I winced as its talons sank through my jacket and pierced the skin...

"Sorry," it croaked, and loosened its grip and leaned from one talon to the other.

"Did you find...?"

"Yes...Qli...told."

A fourth creature fluttered to my feet and released Ash's soul-shard. It stared up at me as it nudged the bone towards my boots.

"Build?" It cocked its head and looked up at me with beady red eyes.

I stared at the glowing sigils flickering across the bone. The oscillations seemed to be correct. The Elder...this projection of him at least seemed to carry him with no trouble...

I removed a glove and grasped the shard.

Marcus fled as the rocket approached.

"Typical. Off to seize the next body."

"Going", chirped the crowd of small Bloodwings around me, as if coming to a spontaneous and unanimous decision. "Fauve."

They rose as one, and drifted off towards the horizon.

He is off to be rebuilt.

"He doesn't want me healing him again. He's afraid I'll...go too far again." An awkward moment, as I was speaking to the result of said effort telepathically.

The Cala refugees must be our first priority. If the local Consulate still stands, leave me there. They will deliver me to Steeltopia. My spare frame is stored there. The Baron will be asking for a report.

"Do you still want to be a Jager, Ash?"

A long pause. Observe my current state.

"You'd be dead now. There would probably be not enough left of you to reanimate."

The smell of smoke flared in my nostrils as flakes of grey floated past me.

First priority.

Homunculi

2011-06-09T17:05:00.000-07:00

As Koen and I turned over Ash's shattered frame we noticed something unusual.

"Dad...there's an open compartment in his back that goes into where his hard drive was s'posed ta be! And his magic bone ain't here!"

"Bloody Hell...you're right!"

I pulled out my binoculars and began scanning the desert wastes, which were strewn with the wrecks of Baba Yaga's fleet. Some of the Digital Knights were injured. The damage on the isomorphs resembled neither the wounds of flesh-born, nor of the shrapnel of damaged automata that I create. Their forms, where disrupted, revealed they were made of tiny cubes! The undamaged ones were helping their comrades-in-arms by collecting the shattered bits. My view froze when I saw Qli staring at me through her sniper scope. Her finger was off the trigger, I assumed. The poor dear. She desperately needed to know.

"You hit the chest," I mouthed. "Soul shard is missing..."

She lowered her scope before I could finish. She tossed her weapon aside. Even with a frozen mask for a face, I can still read the actions of my own creation. The poor girl! She thought just killed her brother!

"Qli! Pick up your scope! You brother is..."

And that is just when the power plant at Cala Mondrago exploded. First I saw the flash, then seconds later felt a boom that nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Dad!" Koen screamed over the roar of the vengeful spirits bathing the oasis is lightning. "Did those attack ships get past us?"

I shook my head. "That's their power source! Constructs of pure energy like these Digital Knights! And they are breaking free!"

"So do we look for Ash...or help the city?"

"A wrenching decision, that one. But the needs of the many..."

Koen pointed towards what appeared to be a flock of birds spreading over the horizon. Or were they bats? I adjusted my lenses.

"It's...it's Bloodwing!"

"Which one?"

"All of them!"

Koen yanked the binoculars from my hands, nearly breaking my neck in the process.

"It's a flock of...little Bloodwings?"

"Homunculi!"

"Gesundheit!"

Always carry a spare wrench.

2011-06-01T19:45:00.000-07:00

It can save your life. Such as in this instance, when I was able to reach my tool belt with my free hand and hurl the tool into the Tesla coils of my wayward sandskimmer, breaking the connection long enough for Koen's darkforce tendril to snap free. The force behind the release sent me hurtling over and into the sand with an unbecoming thud.

Without our weight holding down the sandskimmer, the bow pointed skyward and the craft shot upwards at a steep angle. I counted a full thirty seconds before the craft exploded in a blossom of ball lightning high above Cala Mondrago, gratefully a safe distance from the various airships that coasted over the oasis.

"I'll ask how you knew that was Marcus later. Let's check on Ash."

I allowed myself to be lifted again by one of Koen's tendril of pure shadow, and again he raced over the dunes, with me as a passenger. I could discern by the flashes of vivid colors and accompanying thunderclaps on the horizon that the battle between the Founder's Digital Knights and the old witch's fleet continued to rage. My boots touched the sand again as we drew close to where Ash lay prone. Koen's red-tipped ears perked in alarm.

"He's changin' colors...is he s'posed ta be doin' that?"

A valid question indeed. When he first emerged from the aperture, the glowing circuitry of his uniform burned a deep crimson, matching the Founder's namesake wings. But now, his luminescence seemed to be giving way to an angry shade of orange. I kept a safe distance as I addressed him.

"Ash? Ash! Can you hear me? Commence self-diagnosis!"

His body twitched as his uniform continued to change.

"Auto-repairs in progress...damage recov...virus detected!"

He unsteadily rose to his feet, the mutation of shade nearly complete.

"Virus? Ash, diagnose!"

"Scanning...virus identified!" He abruptly reached behind him, pulling a disc free from where it was attached to his back. It still radiated the original shade of crimson.

"Virus identified..." Wait, was that a smirk spreading across his expressionless face? His deep modulated voice suddenly shifted into a frightening cackle of a sort only heard from one's deepest nightmares.

"MARCUS GABRIEL MASON!"

With a savage arc of his shoulder he hurled his disc at us. I dove headfirst into the sand as the projectile missed my crown by mere centimeters! Koen roared in pain as the disc tore a scarlet swath through his aura of darkness. With acute angles defying known aerodynamics the discuss returned to its owners grasp, leaving a trail of solid light behind it.

"Fascinating! A mere shard of the Founder's bone wields so much POWER! Surely when I overcome the Founder himself..." Ash/Marcus waved his weapon towards the battlefield in the distance. "...I shall be INVINCIBLE!"

Before I could intervene, Koen leaped on all fours like an enraged tiger towards the android, his compromised aura of Vortex energy "bleeding" a trail of floating shadows behind him. I had but a moment to feel a sharp sting of horror in my soul as Ash twisted his body and raised his weapon to strike...

Speed on the Desert Sands

2011-05-17T18:16:00.000-07:00

Despite my speed and evasive maneuvering, I was certain I was done for when one of the Dazdi ships hurtled through the desert sky straight towards my hovercraft. My doom was averted by the near-deafening crack of thunder beside me that sent the metal shell spinning off past the horizon.

My overzealous passenger's tattooed arms were held out stiff as planks, cradling a vulgar work of gleaming metal.

".44 Desert Eagle! Sweet Push, yeah?"

"Oh please don't let this make it to the journals..." I muttered.

I was distracted by a roar of machinery behind us. In my rear-view mirror I glimpsed a wall of crimson stretch out behind us like a ribbon. Bishop sat up in the passenger's seat (he hadn't heeded my advise to strap himself in, of course) and scanned the the featureless sands behind us. I watched the Founder's new squadron of Digital Knights exchanging beams of searing light with Baba Yaga's fleet from their two-wheeled wonders with a speed and precision that made my defensive driving seem positively oafish!

Ash's light-cycle rode up beside my sandskimmer. He turned his helmeted head to glance at us once, then veered far too close! I had to swerve to keep from hitting the wall of energy his craft generated!

I flipped the switch on my Marconi transmitter to ask him what the blazes he was up to. I heard one of the female Knights dictating orders in a metallic monotone. What did this code mean? "G-6?"

When my passenger started bobbing his shoulders in time with the oscillations while he shattered holes in the light-wall large enough for us to jet through with his pistol, I realized I was in fact listening to one of those horrid songs that pass as entertainment on the mainland! Bishop, this ignorant fool, had obviously been fiddling with my transmitter while I was watching the Elder's conjurations!

"YOU IDIOT!"

There was no way I could recalibrate the equipment in the middle of a high-speed chase! I was tempted to knock him out of the 'skimmer myself, but...

The red light-cycle crushed in on itself from the force of Bishop's bullet and disintegrated. In the mirror I watched in horror as the rider tumbled and rolled helplessly over a sand dune until he lay still.

I glanced in murderous fury at the imbecile who had far, far outstayed his welcome. I held back the bile in my throat as his pink loincloth flapped madly from our rate of speed. Wait...pink loincloth? Even for a testosterone-driven savage like him that was a rather outre'...

The theatrics dropped the moment he lowered his aim at me. I felt the heat of the pistol's smoking muzzle a mere centimeter from my temple.

"Bishop's three to Knight's one."

I kept my eyes straight forward.

"Checkmate, dear brother. Checkmate." I never could beat him at three-dimensional chess.

But then again, the chessboard never came equipped with an ejector seat. The instant he started to lift, he fired and devastated the steering column instead of my cranium. I instinctively covered my face with my arms to protect myself from the shower of sparks and the imminent impact as the hovercraft rocketed at full speed towards the the city of Cala Mondrago that loomed on the horizon!

Bifrost

2011-05-15T18:05:00.000-07:00

I continued to watch from my sandskimmer at a safe distance. The mainland tourist who made himself comfortable in the seat beside me had slumped over minutes ago for snooze. Thank goodness for small favors. I could not let anything distract me from what transpired.

It was a breathtaking sight. The sands shook from the thunder of the radiant velocipedes as they roared from the shining column of silver. Twenty-four of them stopped in unison in tight formation as the column from which they escaped blinked out of existence, leaving a momentary trail in the eye like a bolt of lightning that struck close-by.

Instead of opening their vehicles, they dissolved into light and then nothingness around them as they stood. Most of them had black outfits, save for a few of the visibly attractive ones who were clad in white. But all of them had veins of energy in primary colors coursing over their clothing, matching the vehicles they had driven. They also had glowing discs fastened to their backs, which I conjectured were their power sources. The one with the crimson suit stood taller than the rest. Before he lifted his visor I recognized him as my creation.

Bloodwing had created an image of himself in the center of where the aperture stood. Even though he was in fact disassembled and spread around where the aperture had been. All of the newcomers, including Ash, knelt before their liberator.

"Welcome to Earth, brave Digital Knights! I shall graciously..."

I was distracted by a blast of cold air. Huge snowflakes pressed to my skin and stung as they melted. But we were in the desert of Cala Mondrago! What sorcery was this?

One of the knights stood and turned away from the Elder, and drew a baton that crackled with power. "Recognizers spotted!", he shouted in a voice so modulated it was barely decipherable.

What on Earth was a Recognizer, I thought. The tourist woke with a start and pointed upwards.

"Dude! Spaceships with giant chicken legs and laser guns!"

I flipped the switch on my console, engaging the twin Tesla turbines in the rear of the sandskimmer with a flash and a hiss.

"How astute. Please put on your seatbelt."

I floored the accelerator. Mr. Bishop was trying to make another observation at the top of his lungs, but I was too busy weaving madly through metallic claws and angles of burning light to ask him to repeat.

end of line

2011-04-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

The digital readout in Ash's helmet focused on the squadron of Recognizers hovering in the distance.

"Twenty. Closing quickly." He turned to face the exhausted warriors behind him. "Resistors! Rezz your cycles! This shall be our last..."

The column of light that pierced the sky and bore into the unformatted, broken ground interrupted them.

"The aperture! The Founder has heard us!"

The Resistors activated their batons, and the components of their vehicles formed around them, save for one.

Ash approached the sole User in their midst. His power suit gleamed with emerald circuitry and his breastplate was emblazoned with a symbol foreign to the Grid.

"Ryder. Please join us."

He shook his head.

"Your world isn't mine, Ash. I belong in the 21st century, not the 19th. Besides..."

Ryder lifted his hand and clenched his fist. His ring began to flicker.

"...if there's still even one ISO hiding somewhere in the Grid, I need to keep CLU-less from finding them. Also, someone needs to keep those Recognizers back before the aperture closes. You don't want a new digital menace in your quaint steampowered world would you?" He smirked.

"You have no battery to recharge your ring."

"I found a workaround. Now go."

"Ryder. I..."

He nodded slowly. "I know." He gestured towards the aperture.

Ash looked back once more as he stood at the head of the formation. With a flick of his wrist he powered up his baton, and crouched into the vehicle that now encased him.

"Resistors! To the Steamlands! Your second life awaits!"

Ribbons of color flashed like lighting towards the column, gradually fading behind them.

Ryder knelt and pressed his ring to the ground. Emerald cracks opened in the jagged surface in the shape of the symbol of his Corps as he drew raw power from the Grid itself.

"Through photon pulse of static night

defense against corrupted might

I purge now Evil's viral blight

by the power- GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!"

pardon the interruption

2011-04-13T18:43:00.000-07:00

I'd been asked to keep my distance on this one. So there I was watching Qli and Koen through binoculars from the safety of a sandskimmer. They seemed to have the situation well in hand...

"Are you a real Scientist?"

By the Founder! I was so busy watching watching my children build the portal I hadn't noticed the half-naked, tattooed savage from the Mainland who just plopped himself down in the seat next to me!

"Do you always climb into other people's vehicles without asking?"

"There's no ban lines, Dude."

It took an extraordinary amount of will to keep my proper composure. We're supposed to set the example for these primitive folk, are we not? We were all Mainlanders once, weren't we?

"My name is Dr. Darien Mason. And you are?"

"Bishop-Three" is as close as I could pronounce it. He couldn't be "the third" of anything. He certainly didn't dress like a bishop.

"Do you play chess?'

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

All right, perhaps he has some potential.

"Doc, what are those two doing in the next sim with all those GUTS?"

"How...how can you see that from here?"

"I cammed over. It's a trick on the new Viewer..."

I interrupted him before his vulgar dialect made my head spin even further.

"They're..." Oh how do I explain this?

"They're arranging my demonic ancestor Bloodwing's still living components around the blast site so my neko son Koen...the one with the red fur there.. can use his Void Alchemy to establish an anti-aether conduit to the Digital Grid from the coordinates embedded in Bloodwing's quantum signature...thereby permitting my android daughter Qlippothic..."

"Dude! She's..."

"Ahem."

"Oh she's your daughter? Never mind, keep going."

"Certainly. So Qli will energize the conduit with a galvanic tesseraction burst, creating a dimensional aperture to allow my other son Ash to make his way back to the Steamlands, apparently with a collection of refugees."

After an extended pause, he spoke up again.

"So this is some kind of art project? Are you using Machinima for this?"

I felt a migraine coming on.

"If I give you a card with the location of free merchandise, will you vanish abruptly as your kind are so fond of doing?"

falling to pieces

2011-03-23T18:27:00.000-07:00

"I must admit, I have never seen an organic repair himself quite like this."

Bloodwing did not respond to Nova's observation. He had the sinew pulled taught with his teeth as he drew the needle over the last stitch of the surface of a deep, jagged wound and pulled it shut.

"Once we reach the homeline, I'm sure Doctor Mason can..."

"No." The narrow ribbon fell from his lips as he gathered it and meticulously tied a thick knot at the end of the stitch. "I must never lie on his table. No Spark must reanimate me again. I only require mend..."

Bloodwing froze as he watched the new stitches pop one by one and dissolve. He heard the rending as other stitches he had placed on a dozen other wounds likewise shred apart. No longer able to support himself where he sat, he collapsed against the bulkhead of the Sixes and Sevens.

Nova leaned over the pale demon. She pulled a device from her belt and peered at the swirling colors in the lens. "Bloodwing, magic isn't my area of expertise, but your entropy levels have spiked..."

"A curse..." The demon tipped over on his side, crushing a wing stripped down to bare bones. "The hag's magic must be reflected..."

"So we need to find a practitioner of the Arts similar to Baba Yaga's tradition to counter the curse? Lady Darkling, perhaps?"

He smiled wistfully. "She has gone to raise a son."

"Madame de Brauerhoff?" His neck trembled as he attempted to shake his head.

Nova arched a brow. "Surely you don't mean Mrs. Underby?" she asked doubtfully.

"Fauve." He whispered. "Fauve..."

Nova stepped back as Bloodwing collapsed and fell to the floor. She calmly called out to the helm.

"Six? We need a rather large container..."

The android looked down to survey the twitching components of the exiled demon prince.

"...and a mop.""

from the belly of the beast

2011-03-15T18:31:00.000-07:00

For the past week I had been excavating the inside of the vehicle that Koen destroyed in Cala Mondrago. I set up a protective dome over the craft for protection from the elements, and to keep the "chicken-hut" as my son calls it trapped inside. (Koen's sudden surge of power is alarming in and of itself. We must contact Erebus...)

The mummified operator of the machine turned to dust after Qlippothic destroyed it. The hollowed out stone it was perched in seems completely mundane.

First observation: This device is of the same origin as the claw fragment we recovered from where Ash and the Founder disappeared. Metallurgical analysis revealed industrialized techniques beyond Steamlands technology. Off hand it would be something I'd expect to find on the Sixes and Sevens. But these monstrosities are not from the Twentieth century. They are centuries old. When Aleister Mason was still living and hobnobbing with the geniuses of the Renaissance, these devices were somewhere in deep storage.

The astounding technology on the outside is stark contrast to the unabashedly medieval interior inside. A stone fireplace? An iron cauldron? A crude alchemical laboratory? All very curious to say the least!

I found a codex in an upturned cupboard. Inside were Old Russian runes for an introduction:

and there did Baba Yaga find the fallen star
and wrest the secrets from the strange goblins therein:

When I separated the wooden blocks that counted for pages, a holographic projector embedded in the artifact began shine images of advanced technical diagrams. So that is what we are facing: a coven of undead witches using captured alien technology in tandem with horrific enchantments!

I also found in the cabinet another item of interest. Have you ever known a witch that didn't have a crystal ball? I made an attempt to scry with it. The image that manifested over us horrified me beyond description!

Bloodwing was chained to a rack. He was...there's no other word for it...he was being tortured. The anger in the Founder's face far eclipsed his pain. Suddenly, he noticed us...and laughed.

"These fools think I'm Ash!"

A shriek, and a desiccated talon covered the orb at the other end before the transmission was lost.

"The transmission was just long enough to verify their location," Qlippothic said coldly as she unzipped the chronal transmitter from its protective canvas wrapping. "I'll contact the Sixes and Sevens to intercept."

derezzing flags to purge your souls of shame

2011-03-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

In a sunless realm where energy coalesces to form, a construct from another world witnessed the slaughter of innocents, and felt no choice but to intervene. He came from a different world than the Creator Flynn. One where Programs walked among their Users and were treated as equals. To the ISOs and the Programs who joined the Resistance, ASH became their champion.

Over many cycles, the Resistance dwindled, but ASH never tired. His disc could not be broken. His light-cycle could never be intercepted. When all hope of liberating the Grid seemed lost, he gathered the surviving ISOs he could find and took them to the edge of the Grid, in a blind search for a passage back to the Steamlands.

At the rim of the digital world he stood with two dozen exhausted warriors, a half step from the edge, gazing into the oblivion beyond. He did not see it as desperation. It was a last move of unknowable results at the end of the line.

And I believe that I'll retrieve
the aperture to heaven
The User Grid, the promised land
a fortitude of hearts and minds
Until I free the ISO Hive
I'll format Void into the Light
Enlighten minds!
Now Program, run
until the day of Liberation,
Bloodwing's Son!

The call echoed through the space between spaces and the time between times, where it reached the demon from which he was created. Despite the pain inflicted upon him by his captors, the prayer gave him the strength to break his bonds. By the time the Sixes and Sevens cut open the hull, Bloodwing stood alone among the crushed and charred remains of the long-dead Daughters of Baba Yaga. All he asked for as Nova and Six carried him through the air lock was a needle and thread, to sew himself back together.

It is her decision.

2011-02-24T18:02:00.000-08:00

Herr Baron,

I have surveyed the site of the incident involving Liaison Ash and the Elder at Cala Mondrago. The fireball from the Galvanic Tesseractor explosion, judging by the newly-formed platform - a fused disc of glass that resulted from the melting sand, had a radius of at least a hundred yards. As you see by the notes Ash left, he did not carry enough fuel with him to cause that degree of en explosion. He was testing a lateral jump, not a chronal one.

Further, I have found the partially melted remains of a massive articulated talon. This proves there was foul play. I am testing the fragment in the lab to determine its origin.

I believe if I reinstalled a GT unit into Qlippothic, we can read the magnetic resonance of the platform to locate where and when he landed, and create an aperture for him to follow back to the Steamlands.

There is one complication. The Sixes and Sevens will be returning from the future soon with supplies to rebuild the Bloodwing's Revenge as well as a nanobyte repair kit to heal Qli. Once her android form is permanently stabilized I can install the GT. However, before I had the chance to brief her on the search and rescue plan, she told me how ecstatic she was that she could permanently become human. Do not envy me, Herr Baron. How can I chastise her desiring something we take for granted every day?

I am heading back to New Babbage to build the Tesseractor. Should Qli refuse to reassume her android form permanently...then Ash is left to his own devices to return. And without Ash's special link to the Elder, then two members of my family are lost to us. And if my plan goes flawlessly? Then I could never dare to ask Qli to make any sort of sacrifice again.

~DM

I am the man who arranges the blocks...

2011-02-22T19:10:00.000-08:00

A Complete History of the Soviet Union As Told By A Humble Worker, Arranged To The Melody Of Tetris.

proving grounds

2011-02-15T16:59:00.000-08:00

"ASH MASON!" The demon bellowed as his wingspan cut a shape across the red desert moon.

The android paid no heed, and continued his course across the sands. The lights of the oasis of Cala Mondrago shone at the edge of the horizon, the only terrestrial landmark.

"ASH MASON!" The demon swooped and landed ten paces ahead. "I command you to halt! You must answer your Elder!"

Ash stood in place, saying nothing.

"What is this madness I hear? You wish drink that potion, do you? You want to be one of the Heterodyne's attack dogs? Is it not shameful enough to follow their pack like some mascot?"

"The Jagermonsters are living weapons, the triumphant legacy of House Heterodyne." Ash's voice was calm and clear. "To be permitted to consume the brau is an honor. Whether or not my soul-chip can accept..."

"MADNESS!" Bloodwing advanced toward Ash, his crimson locks tangling about his horns as a dust storm arose. In an instant there was darkness and stinging sand and the deafening howl of swirling sands. "THIS IS BETRAYAL!"

Ash's measured demeanor cracked as he shouted above the sands. "I was BORN from your betrayal!" His sensors could not penetrate the storm. If the Founder was ten feet away or a thousand, he could not tell. The sands tore at his uniform. "Your lifecode is embedded within me, and if I do nothing your template will reassert itself over my circuitry! There is barely room for ONE Bloodwing on this Earth! What will happen when there are TWO?"

Ash was thrown off his feet by an explosion, but scrambled to his feet. "Ambush! This storm must be part of the attack! Bloodwing! State your location!"

He felt a clawed hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the Elder's pale skin striated with cuts oozing with his black ichor. The demon's glowing embers were hidden as he shut his eyes. "I am blinded! My wings are torn to shreds!"

Ash ripped open a panel in his torso. Lighting arced around the glowing, impossible shape hovering inside the cavity. "We have one chance." Ash had wandered into the desert wastes precisely for the purpose of testing Qlippothic's Galvanic Tesseractor with his own power source. Now it seemed, it would be a trial by fire. "Tesseraction in 3...2...

Above them both they heard a screech of metal, and without a warning a talon of steel wrapped around the blinded demon and lifted him upwards into the darkness. Ash shot out a telescoping arm blindly into the storm as a bolt of energy slammed into his torso.

The citizens of Cala Mondrago stopped to watch the bloom of lightning on the horizon.

When Ash regained consciousness, he immediately assumed his sensors were malfunctioning. There were energy patterns, but no presence of matter. If the readings were correct...this environment was held together not by physical structure, but by information.

"Welcome program Ash," chirped a voice nearby. "Welcome to the Grid."

Happy Valentine's Day...

2011-02-14T11:08:00.000-08:00

It's considered a day of ill omen for my clan, but to the rest of you I wish a day of warmest affections. Also, please pick up a copy of the Steampunk Tintype & Telegraph today for a personal tale of tragic romance and a valuable lesson.

Best Regards,

Dr. Darien Mason

your sanity and wits they will all vanish, I promise

2011-02-07T16:04:00.000-08:00

A Mythos manifestation in Cape Wrath, of all places. The Avarian power gauntlets I carried with me were useless; the abomination's stain on reality was too thick in the air of the now-ravaged mansion. I had to resolve this the old-fashioned way, with an invocation of Nodens and a scalpel across the writhing tentacled visage of a pulsating painting too steeped in madness to describe.

The tenant sat there blubbering about family curses and the damage to her articulated limb. I just wanted to get the hell out. I nearly sprained my ankle tripping over the remains of a smashed cupboard merrily spilling oolong into the already septic carpet.

"I'm getting too old for this..."

Back at the Consulate, Wren greeted me with a smile on her face, carrying the bottle of absinthe and a shotglass on a silver plate, along with her report card. She's got a strong grasp of the Sciences, that Wren.

"Ah, not yet my dear. Let's check on our guests first, shall we?"

Wren pulled the latch, and I slid back the cover of the stasis chamber. Not one patient, but two. Precious little things, already sprouting tufts of red hair on their heads. I had scratched out the names DARIEN and MARCUS on the decanters and added OUNA and POPPY on the following lines, just in case anyone jumped to conclusions.

Nutrient levels were constant. Heat levels constant also. Circulation steady. Growth acceleration could begin in a matter of days.

The figures twitched in their glass tubes, and a nearby ticker-tape began to click madly and spill paper onto the floor. Wren pinched the end of the ribbon and passed it to me. I slid it through my fingers and looked back to them.

"You're welcome."

the year that was

2010-12-30T20:54:00.000-08:00

Has it really been a year since I came out of seclusion following my return from exile? Has it truly been a year since I liberated Wren from the cold embrace of Death?

My research in New Babbage for Baron Wulfenbach was hampered by the Reality Enforcement Devices being used wantonly around the city by magiphobic miscreants! As I became more dependent on my reanimation formula due to damage sustained in my return, the life-renewing compound began to dangerously unravel my sense of reason. I became convinced the only way to make New Babbage safe for my brand of research, as well as supernaturals of all stripes, was to build a Paradigm Resequencer to usurp administrative control of the local laws of physics. So mad had I become that I had coerced my firstbuilt daughter Qlippothic into serving as a power source for the device!

Unbeknownst to me, Bloodwing’s spirit re-emerged from the conflagration of the destruction of Erebus as his original enchantments were set to do, inside his Seventh Son (meaning, myself). However, instead of being able to control me as he did before, he was preoccupied trying to rescue my brain from the inundation of the reanimation formula, which was mutating me into an abomination my studies call a Pandorus.

As the Elder raced through my neurons searching for a cure, he discovered lost memories of his own: he was once betrothed to a fallen angel. Bloodwing was able to call out the angel’s name to awaken hir just before he was engulfed. That angel was Xavael, who had assumed the form of a mind-mannered but nonetheless shady merchant named Velvel Danielovich, who had already followed Bloodwing’s trail from Russia to Steelhead!

As all this was going on, Koen (who had escaped from Erebus and abandoned his post as co-ruler of that realm) was spying on me, but my assistant Wren was on his tail. Koen finally fell into one of her bear traps, but before he bled to death he was saved by none other than Aleister Mason, the very vampire that had once Embraced him.

Aleister patched his wound, and showed him what would be the tragic result of my experiments in the Time Window onboard his dilapidated clockwork airship, The Bloodwing’s Revenge. It was a nightmare world (which we now call in shorthand the Most Likely Scenario) where I had succumbed to my madness and murdered Qlippothic and Ash as I grew into a Pandoran monster, just before being put down by Dr. Obolensky’s mechanical colossus, Lord Smashington.

Koen crept into my laboratory and ripped Qlippothic from my equipment and extracted her via cables connected to The Bloodwing’s Revenge. As they made their escape they were ambushed by demon-wasp drones of the Vesprium, an ancient foe of Bloodwing's kingdom. The Revenge had stumbled upon the Vesprium’s aerial hellgate, a beachhead for the invasion of Earth!

Determined to find my daughter and the vampire, I journeyed to New Toulouse to seek guidance from the spirits there. They put me in contact with the current ruler of Erebus, the Vortex. Only when the Vortex tricked me into opening a package containing my father Jeremiah's still-animated hand did I discover that the Vortex was being controlled by my brother Marcus.

When my father’s hand throttled me, it absorbed all of the reanimation serum in my body, enough to regrow Jeremiah's body entirely and cure me in the process. Jeremiah had also unintentionally absorbed the spirit of Bloodwing that was trapped inside me. During my father’s shocking physical transformation into Bloodwing I saw the Vesprium attack the Vortex on the other side of the portal I’d created. Bloodwing recognized this as part of a concerted attack and flew off to assist the Revenge. My gestalt daughter Amarantis found me too weak from the ordeal and sent me back to Wilde Hospital in Babbage to recover.

By the time Bloodwing arrived at the invasion site, the Revenge had been crippled to the point that Koen and Qlippothic had to combine their abilities to carry the ship forward in time to escape. In transit through time, they spied another version of me held prisoner in a strange realm called Fallen London. Their ship arrived in the Twentieth Century outside the Dieselpunk capital of Seraph City, where by a seemingly spectacular coincidence Qli’s oldest friend/adopted sister Nova Sakigake and her lover Six were running a junkyard and repair business. Their ship, the Sixes and Sevens, rescued the Revenge from a nosedive after the ship arrived in broad daylight, causing Aleister to sparkle…and explode...shattering the wooden hull.

The three gynoids went to work upgrading what was left of the Revenge. Qli journeyed to town to purchase equipment and a future (but apparently unchanged) version of Wren slipped her a crumbling copy of a newspaper from Qli's year of departure. She judiciously memorized the information about the Vesprium and erased the rest of it from her memory after she incinerated the paper. She kept the encounter secret from the rest of the crew.

Koen journeyed to Seraph City to…explore. He spotted Wren as well, selling newspapers on the streetcorner. Still smarting from the leg trap back in New Babbage, he gave chase, racing up to the roof of a skyscraper where he was cornered by a swarm of future-Wren’s clawed bionic rabbits! He was saved only the intervention of the Regent, Seraph City’s resident Time Lord…who was in fact an elderly version of Koen himself!

The Regent told Koen that the Revenge was currently in the future of the Most Likely Scenario that the younger Koen had just witnessed through the Time Window. Further, it was the Regent who pulled Nova and Six from elsewhere in the timestream to be at their rescue point, so that the Revenge could be rebuilt and return to the Steamlands to defeat the Vesprium. The Regent gave Koen his staff to use to close the hellgate upon their return.

Back in time, over the skies of the Steamlands, Bloodwing was reunited with his lost love Xavael, pushing their magicks to the breaking point in a desperate attempt to repulse the Vesprium fleet. Bloodwing would have plummeted to his death if not for the intervention of Iason Hassanov’s aerial ironclad. The colossal Vesprium Queen herself squeezed through the hellgate as her drones were being vanquished to destroy the demon and angel personally…with Bloodwing’s son Vortex still impaled on her stinger!

Bloodwing and Xavael were spared the fate of the Queen’s venom by the return of the fully modernized Bloodwing’s Revenge along with Nova's ship, the Sixes and Sevens. While the Queen was distracted, the angel and demon pulled apart the Vortex collective to set them free. Koen’s eight siblings took flight and escaped, but the falling Marcus Mason who had taken Koen's place in the collective was caught in midair by Darien’s robotic raven assistant Kane Qork. Marcus refused to be trapped in a brain-jar where his body-stealing powers would be held in check, and purposely made Kane deliver a fatal wound. Marcus plummeted to the sea, but was swallowed whole by the mysterious Illuminautilus that waited below.

Koen used the Regent’s staff, tethered by an energy line back to the Time Window on the Bloodwing’s Revenge to reverse the polarity of the hellgate, drawing the Queen back through the portal. Bloodwing’s spirit was pulled out of Jeremiah’s body as well and vanished when the hellgate collapsed.

The hellgate’s energy was channeled through time to the MLS Seraph City and into the Regent’s duplicate staff, which he used to save his Earth from the tide of obilivion set in motion by Qlippothic’s destruction at his world's point of divergence from ours. Xavael appeared as he collapsed to help him regenerate. Meanwhile, Bloodwing reincarnated into the body of an urchin far below, bringing the tale of the Most Likely Scenario to a close for us.

Jeremiah returned to Erebus with Koen’s siblings to search for Bloodwing, and Jeremiah also made a noble but doomed attempt to rebuild the underworld kingdom of Erebus as a democratic republic. Betrayal is commonplace in that realm...

The remaining Masons, including Amarantis, turned their attentions back to Steelhead to help hunt down the primordial horror Ya Yimawa (referred to in dread as “Old Steal Head” by the local scamps) that was preying on the townsfolk. The refurbished Bloodwing’s Revenge drilled a hole in the monster’s lair - a half-submerged boxcar on the shore of Steelhead Bay as part of a coordinated effort with Baron Wulfenbach’s Jagerpatrol to both rescue the enthralled Dr. Ryne Beck and defeat the monster. Both objectives were achieved, but Yi Yiwama tore Qlippothic apart in the process, leaving her soul chip to slowly dissolve in the monster’s life-force dissolving muck left behind in his destruction as the boxcar.

As the Revenge searched for Qli’s remains, Xavael was nearly destroyed by Steal Head’s toxic remains. The Revenge were attacked by the Illuminautilus, a mechanical nightmare that was formerly Jeremiah Mason’s mobile undersea base. A defective clone of Jeremiah had been left to grow inside the vessel after it was sunk by a sabateur. The clone had become a Pandorus, expanding to fill the interior of the ship until the vessel became the creature’s shell. It consumed the contents of Steal Head’s lair, including Qli and the Ya Yiwama's soul-dissolving compounds.

As Qli was preparing for oblivion, she was saved by the dying Marcus, who was trapped in the Illuminautilus with her. Marcus revealed that he and Darien were mortal enemies even in childhood, not raised separately as they were tricked into believing by their father’s memory-erasing devices. Marcus also revealed the source of their brotherly hatred – that he may in fact be Koen’s biological father. [I refuse to discuss this. -DM] Before his spirit passed on, Marcus gave Qli his genetic code, which her nanobytes used to build a human body with Marcus’ unique abilities intact to protect her spirit from dissolution.

Monitoring the battle between the Revenge and the Illuminautilus from orbit aboard my aethership the Clockwork Caravel, my construct son Ash broke the spirit of my orders to stay with the ship under any circumstances. He piloted the ship full steam and sails into the atmosphere where the Caravel literally disintegrated around him, and he hurtled through the atmosphere like a meteorite all the way to Steelhead Bay where he purposefully collided like a cannonball into the Illuminautilus at maximum velocity, thereby destroying it.

Qlippothic was rescued from the belly of the beast, and much to our surprise she had attained a human form. This form was stable until a few days ago. Now she can no longer control the nanobytes that are shifting her back and forth piecemeal between her human and android forms. Koen is flying her to a steampunk city in the desert called Cala Mondrago to recover until Nova and Six come back with replacement parts for the Revenge. Hopefully they can repair Qli’s nanobytes as well.

Did I mention Bloodwing was back? Apparently he was trapped in a world made entirely of cubes, and constructed a portal of obsidian and “redstone” to make his way back to our world. He has yet to recover from his ordeal in the Minecraft world, so his powers are still very weak. Last I heard he was staying with Mr. Danielovich but considering a Sheriff position in the Dakotas (a new steampunk Wild West sim).

Thank you, from our family to yours, for allowing us to share our adventures with you! May the exploits of Mason Labs and House Bloodwing continue to enthrall you next year and for many more to come!

Homecoming

2010-12-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

Ash hesitated a moment before he opened the Consulate door. The Jäger on staff opened it from the other side with a wide toothy grin. The robot stood to attention and saluted.

"I read hyoor report! Using your hyoor body as a missile, Ja! Vot a great Jäger hyoo made, Ash-Lad! Velkum back to Schteeltopia!"

Ash accepted his vigorous steel grip of a handshake.

"Tenk hyoo, Herr Veles." He replied in the Jäger accent out of respect, though lacking fangs himself. "I was under orders not to abandon the Caravel, so I had no choice but to re-enter our atmosphere to save the Masons."

"Hyoor vater muscht be a bit upschet, Ja?"

"Collateral damage is inevitable," he replied in a deep modulated tone. "A sign of a good war, as you say. We are more concerned with Qlippothic's altered state."

The Jäger furrowed his shaggy green brow. "She ist hyooman now, Ja? Not invinschible like ush?" He chuckled with a bestial snort thrown in for good measure.

"I am afraid so. There is nothing I can do to help her now, so I spoke with the Baron after raising the Bloodwing's Revenge, and have returned to my station to assist the Consulate and the Emperor."

"Very gut! Now schtop schtanding out in der cold! Hyu gots ischicles on hyu!"

Ash crouched as he slipped through the human-sized doorframe.

"No holiday decorations?"

"Hyoor friend keeps eating dem!" He pointed up the iron spiral staircase.

He head burbling sounds from the staircase above.

"Yoggy!" Ash strode to the staircase. He looked up and was immediately knocked to the floor by an amorphous blob with a gigantic maw of disturbingly human-looking teeth.

"AAAAAAAAAASHHHH!!!!"

The creature's call was loud enough to make the Consulate shake. Veles covered his hat with his furred hands as flakes of plaster and white dust fell from the ceiling.

Lying straight as a board on the marble floor, Ash's monocle rotated upwards to scan his companion more closely. This is the first time he had ever heard Yoggy attempt human speech.

"I am happy to see you too, Yoggy," he continued as the beast created from a forgotten Spark's lab lapped at Ash's exposed circuitry with its huge tongue, throwing off showers of sparks. "I measure from your weight on my abdomen that your mass has increased by 21 percent since I saw you last."

"burblburbpburble," it replied insistently.

"And..." Ash flared his nostrils. "You are in dire need of a bath."

With that, Yoggy stood up as straight as an amorphous blob could, as if imitating his caretaker's normals stance, then in a blur slithered it's way back up the staircase.

"Do not make me use the firehose again!" He raced up the stairs as a smirking Captain Veles exited the Consulate for an extended lunch, wishing to get neither his fur nor his hat waterlogged.

Battle Beneath Steelhead Bay: Aftermath

2010-12-14T18:43:00.000-08:00

Herr Baron,

Yes, you are correct. The full force of Ash colliding with the Illuminautilus was indeed the killing blow. The calculations it must have taken for him to project himself as a missile from orbit are truly mind-boggling. This is another one of those victories he will never brag about that cause one to step back and be grateful that he is on Our Side.

The Revenge was helpless in its coils at the time of impact. My improvised sealing of the hull was a temporary measure at best. The shockwave snapped our vessel free of the beast (with tentacles still attached) but also wrecked what was left of the engines. Both craft sank to the bay floor. Three Mason ships destroyed in one battle. Both my aethership the Caravel, and Aleister's retrofitted Revenge were both sacrificed to defeat the vessel that was once my father's. My mind still reels when I reflect on this. Nova, Six, Koen and I finally did abandon ship, purposefully flooding the cabin it in order to float to the surface, where your lifeboats were waiting for us. Again, my gratitude to Frau Lowey and the Jagerpatrol.

I was still in shock from all that transpired to understand what Frau Lowey was trying to tell me about Qlippothic. When we reached shore I approached Ash, who to be honest did not look in much better shape than the Revenge. His limbs were shorn down to the skeletal structure. His jaw dangled uselessly from the side. I stopped in my tracks as I beheld the shivering figure wrapped in a blanket in his arms.

"Who is this?" I asked. "Why is she wearing Qlippothic's faceplate?"

She groggily reached out to me, and I caught her pale, trembling hand in mine. There were goosebumps all the way down her arm.

"Genetic transfer complete..." She whispered as she stared up at me with eyes as blue as my own through the metal face. "All systems...functional..."

Battle Beneath Steelhead Bay: Earth Below Us

2010-12-01T20:04:00.000-08:00

Far above the clouds, a magnificent space-faring vessel reminiscent of the galleons of old floats in the darkness of space. This masterpiece, for all its glory, is almost completely abandoned; save for a single android.

His name is Ash. He is a juggernaut of brass and steel, an accidental creation harvested from a tragic clash of magic and science. Since his moment of sentience he has unquestioningly accepted any duty offered to him. As a member of the Steeltopian Guard he helped to thwart a revolution. His valor in service to House Wulfenbach led the Jagers to adopt him as one of their own.

The escape of an exiled family. The ultimate weapon of Spark vengeance, interrupted. An interstellar mercantile trader. Explorer and rescue craft. The Clockwork Caravel has been all these things. For over a year Ash has kept solitary duty. On the bridge he maintains control of the ship's functions from a single seat with a combination of telescoping forearms and brutal jury-rigging scores of levers and dials with steel wires. He adjusts a dial to the rise of static and a cacophony of voices.

"Hull breach sealed! It's a good thing I brought the elephant clamps!"

"DOC! What are ya doin' with elephant clamps on a pirate ship? Wait, scratch that! I don't even wanna know!"

"Doctor! This is Captain Nova! We're still trapped by the Illuminautilus underwater and it's destroyed our cannons!"

"Velvel to Revenge. Xavael tells me the magic orbs are safe...but...Miss Qlipppthic is..."

Ash pulls the wooden lever for the aether engine with such force than it snaps. The splinters float in the cabin around him as he aims the vessel towards the Agni sector.

The reflective solar sails fold inward and the masts tilt to lie across the deck. Arcs of emerald dance across the engine array welded to the aft. The sparks ignite the void of space, propelling the ship behind a green nimbus of fire. The bow of the ship begins to glow. Red to blue to white, blazing a bright trail as it scrapes through into Steamland skies.

Ash pulls a clutch, drawing the masts straight again. Sails pop open and glow bright as the sun for a minute and a half, adding drag to re-entry before the sails shred into confetti. Fourteen seconds later the masts combust and shatter and are lost in the aether-flames that widen and spread over the aft of the ship.

The pilot's gleaming hands keep the brass-handled joystick steady, even as the rest of the ship shakes violently around him. In his tight personal quarters, the rows of glass figurines strapped to the shelves (forged in the furnace from Dr. Mason's empty absinthe bottles) begin to glisten. Delicate transparencies of friends and foes alike liquefy and merge.

Outside, the engines sputter and the Caravel loses its arc, plummeting towards the Grid. Levers, switches and dials in the empty cockpit pass threads of galvanic energy across the wires in intricate dances spanning microseconds before the entire chamber explodes, along with the rest of the Clockwork Caravel. The blossom of emerald flares in the skies, and far below a trail of ball lighting heralds Ash's return to Steelhead. Retaining his velocity he folds space, he pulls himself tight into a ball as the shockwave of metallic frame slamming into the head of a colossal cybernetic squid echoes across Steelhead, shattering windows and causing minor landslides of boulders and stacked lumber.

From the roof of Velvel's Shanghai Bazaar, the proprietor again loses his balance from the shockwave and tumbles over the shaled roof. A second later, he smiles as he levitates to several yards above where he fell, the brass contraption strapped to his back spewing jets of violet energy downwards behind him.

"Now THAT was an entrance!"

Bloodcraft

2010-11-26T06:56:00.000-08:00

Somwhere in the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Steelhead, the total darkness was disturbed by a perfect rectangle of swirling violet hovering in the passageway. Close to the damp limestone floor, a pair of beady rodent eyes stared on in confusion. His whiskers twitched as he sniffed the dank air. His curiosity getting the better of him, he crawled over the beam of the forgotten iron rail for a closer look. He could now see the glow was coming from inside a frame made of cubes of black glass. A hot blast of dry air reeking of sulfur assaulted his nostrils, carrying snowflake-shaped particles of ash trailing drunkenly along. Was that a roar he heard from the other side?

The rat dove for cover as a minecart shot from the portal. The occupant of the cart, a figure in blockish armor, clutched the front rim as the cart landed on the existing tracks, rolling several more yards before it smashed into the dead end of the passageway and falling into pieces. The rider tumbled into the wall and the contents of the cart scattered everywhere.

It was an effort for the man to gather his belongings and rise to his feet. His armor was ridiculously bulky, and lacking in joints for elbows and knees. When he finally stood, his outfit made him resemble a shiny brick. In a swift motion he drove a wooden stick into the limestone. Just as inexplicably the fist sized lump of coal at the other end spontaneously burst into flame, bathing the passage in torchlight.

His gauntlet wrapped around the shaft of a crudely designed pick he had recovered from the wreckage. The business end of the tool was transluscent and glimmered in the light. He ambled unsteadily in his stiff outfit towards the portal and raised his pick high.

"I still have difficulty believing it takes a pick of solid diamonds to break volcanic glass!" he snarled, and smashed the tip into one of the columns of obsidian. The portal shattered into fragments, dispersing the violet glow and descending the passageway into silence.

"That was easier than it should have been." He glanced at the rat as it fled. "A RAT? I haven't seen a rat since I got lost in..."

He was distracted from finishing his sentence when his pick shattered into a small shower of gems.

"The laws are different here! I must be..."

Just then, the shaft of the torch he had embedded in the stone was consumed in flame, and promptly disintegrated, plunging the passageway back into impenetrable darkness.

"...oh."

Battle Beneath Steelhead Bay: Extrication

2010-11-22T08:14:00.000-08:00

Through the most horrendous series of misfortunes, three members of our family were now helpless and in need of imminent rescue. My firstbuilt daughter Qlipppthic was dissolving in the toxic remains of an ancient abomination on the bay floor. The fallen angel Xavael was nearly consumed by the same substance and withdrew into the body of his mortal host, Velvel Danielovich; who unlike his immortal counterpart required air, of which at the bottom of the bay there was none. My neko son Koen, attempting to rescue Mr. Danielovich in turn, used his hermetic skills of Void Alchemy to pass through the hull of our submerged vessel to rescue him.

However, we seem to be caught in a lethal cascade of failures. We were ambushed by the Illuminautilus, a huge vessel built in the form of a colossal squid, once the centerpiece of my father's pirate fleet and increasingly megalomaniacal schemes. However, I know for a fact that my father is currently in another dimension entirely. Not only does this barnacled juggernaut seem to have risen from Davey Jones's locker on its own accord, but some gigantic organism seems to have filled the cabin and made the ship into its shell.

Our pilots, the gynoids Nova and Six, are trying to wrench our ship free of the monster. As I was hanging onto the rails for dear life, Koen's calculations were thrown off. The Revenge lurched as he phased back in, and his diving suit is now fused into the hull of our ship. I hear him yowling for help through his helmet which leans toward me where it is frozen into the wall!

I lurched forward as Six fired the engines. I wrapped my arms around Koen's helmet. I was barely able to squeeze my fingers between the latch for his helmet. I strained an twisted it free, and the bubble of iron and glass crashed to the wooden deck.

"Do you have Velvel?"

Koen struggled helplessly. "No! I had to let him go or he'd have been sliced in half!"

"Can you squeeze through the helmet?"

It would have been impossible for a human at the odd angle in which he was trapped, but being part cat, Koen was able to wiggle through suit's round metal collar past his shoulders, after which I pulled him free.

"It was either that or the brain jar, son."

"Don't even go there."

"Doctor!" Shouted Nova from the bridge. "Velvel grabbed one of Qli's spheres that floated up from the wreckage and turned back into Xavael! S/he seems to be drawing the rest of the Sephiroth back into hirself!"

I winced at her post-apocalyptic grammar, but my heart sank at the implications of Xavael reclaiming the Sephiroth. Qli's soul was bound to them. If that bond is already severed, will there be anything left of her to save?

Koen grunted as he tried to lift the diving helmet.

"Can ya help me put this helmet back on the suit before..."

And at that moment the ship was battered again. An audible tear an instant later the canvas diving suit flipped inside out and through the helmet, functioning as a mannequin-shaped hose, flailing it's limbs wildly to slap Koen clear across the cabin as it's ripped leg functioning like the nozzle of a hose, pinning me to the wall with a column of icy brackish water which quickly began to fill the cabin!

Battle Beneath Steelhead Bay: In Its Clutches

2010-11-18T09:18:00.000-08:00

We had very nearly witnessed the death of an angel. This substance left behind from the destruction of Ya Yimawa dissolves ectoplasm, and it nearly consumed Xavael. The angel was able to retreat within its mortal host before the destruction was irreversible. However, Velvel Danielovich, a mildmannered merchant of Steelhead Shanghai, who left a long record of criminal enterprize and revolutionary activity back in Imperial Russia (so we hope) was very much out of his element at the bottom of Steelhead Bay.

My son Koen grabbed a spare respirator as he used his Void Alchemy to leap through the very solid hull of the Bloodwing's Revenge as if it were an illusion. One of our floodlights kept trained on the man, treading water in his work clothes as Koen swam to his aid. Koen helped him affix the rebreather to his face and began to pull him towards the ship. Koen was safe in his diving suit, but Velvel would quickly succumb to shock and frostbite in the icy depths if he wasn't brought on board soon.

I said to Nova and Six at the helm. "We need to contain this...ambergris. It's toxic enough to be a terrifying weapon in the wrong hands. Qlippothic's life force is embedded in the soul chip, we may still have a chance..."

I was interrupted by a steady pulse of vibration that could be felt throughout the ship.

"That's not coming from us..." Six said as she peered at the engine dials. "That's something outside. Something big."

"Another vessel?" I asked. "Could Lunar have lifted the ship ban for Operation Mongoose already?"

Koen held Velvel, who had slipped into unconsciousness. Koen was pointing to his ear. He must be in pain from the pressurization, I thought. But then Koen pressed the transmitter on his diving helmet.

"Doc, the water temperature just shot up ten degrees! There's something down here using a REDICULOUS amout of energy!"

We saw a column of glowing lights slide into view behind the two. It was far enough away that our lights couldn't make out the outline. It had to be a hundred yards long at least! The mysterious lights vanished, but we could still the pulsing.

"Koen! Get the hell out of there!"

"You don't have to tell me twice!" He activated the heavy water propulsion unit on his diving suit. The challenge was going to be catching him as he phased through without damaging the equipment. I got back to folding up the surgical theatre with renewed haste.

Nova called back to me from the helm. "Get to the aft of the ship and stay away from starboard!"

I dropped my equipment and ran to the back of the ship. The Bloodwing's Revenge shook violently, slamming me against the shelves. I looked out the porthole to see our ship was entangled by something metallic, rusted and barnacle-ridden. A crack in the plating as a tentacle entwined tighter revealed glimpse of pale organic fibers beneath. Was this a ship or a monster? Or something even more hideous?

"DOC! HELP!"

I turned to stare in horror. I hear Koen's muffled scream through his helmet, which was embedded halfway through the ship's hull!

From the port side, a huge eye pressed against the window. Its black iris contracted as it stared at me. Around it I saw the beast's exoskeleton of shipwrecked plates. My heart froze when I saw the faded emblem of the Mason line over the almost indecipherable markings:

I L L U M I N A U T I L U S

Beneath Steelhead Bay: The Remains

2010-11-16T10:55:00.000-08:00

I watched in horror from the portside window as the half-submerged boxcar at the water's edge finally collapsed, rolling end over end off the precipice and into the brackish depths. We lost precious seconds offloading the nurses Wren, Lo and the traumatized Dr. Beck, but the young ladies had to wheel Dr. Beck's gurney out of range of the Revenge's aft engines before we could pursue the disintegrating lair of Ya Yimawa to its final resting place on the silt layer. After those who disembarked joined Amarantis and the wounded Jagers at the bivouac we had prepared, Nova and Six spun our vessel back towards Steelhead Bay and dove into its murky depths.

That gleam in the ship's floodlights? I would have dismissed it as a scrap from an airship wreck, but a father knows his daughter's mechanical limbs when he sees them, even in that sorry state. Koen looked back at me, still in his black formfitting diving outfit. His ears drooped, and gloom spread over his scarlet-furred face. The widnening ebon-slitted corneas of his furrowed crimson eyes stared back at me in quiet desperation. I could not answer him yet.

Brilliant arcs swiveled methodically as we descended along the trail of rusted metal and human bones left by the boxcar's descent. Was that a flare sinking beneath the water ahead? No...it was the angel. The plan was for Velvel to observe from the roof of his tower, but his alter ego seemed to have a destination in mind.

"Captain Nova? We need to follow Xavael."

"Understood, Doctor."

The craft slowed to a halt, hovering several meters from the glowing angel. Xavael wore no breathing apparatus, wings pulsed slowly as particulates from the sea floor floated around the figure in white. The angel gestured to us. Hands clasped in prayer. A hand pointed to the mass of pearlescent ooze resting on the sea floor surrounded by a concentration of the boxcar's debris, including another piece of Qlippothic's chassis.

The angel gestured, and a glowing staff grew outwards in both directions from his utstretched hand. One end spread into a trident and stopped. Xavael prodded the mass, and his weapon's tines began to dissolve.

"Doc..." whispered Koen as he pressed his gloved paws to the glass. "Those objects Xav makes are extensions of his..."

Outside the ship, the angel's weapon continued to dissolve up the shaft as its owner stared in disbelief at the climbing ooze.

"...his own SOUL!" I shouted. I pounded against the glass, screaming at the top of my lungs in the blind hope that I would be heard through the ship's hull. "LET GO OF IT, XAVAEL! LET GO BEFORE IT DETROYS YOU!"

The angel's horrified face shot back towards me, and pale trembling hands released the weapon, which quickly faded into the darkness. A final flash of light, and a very mortal Velvel Danielovich was left in the Fallen One's place, drowning before our eyes.

Steal Head - Hanging By A Thread

2010-11-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

Koen turned his face away as Qlippothic tesseracted onto the deck of the Bloodwing's Revenge in a blossom of electricity.

"I'm going back down. Increase the air pressure, the water level is rising inside."

The neko nodded, and pulled another lever on the machine that connected the airship by a canvas-like tube to the abandoned train car that became the monster's lair. Koen was ready to wish his sister good luck when he noticed her shoulder was ripped open, her brass-like sheen jaggedly torn revealing the gears and pistons beneath.

Koen gulped nervously as Qli jumped down the tube a second time. It was still too close of quarters to teleport in blind, even after seeing the inside. He leaned into the ship's speaking tube.

"One patient!"

A door to the cabin swung open automatically, and two pairs of small white gloved hands pulled Dr. Beck by his shoulders down the ladder that had been covered with metal to make a chute, just for this purpose. Dr. Mason caught him with a white towel before his head hit the operating table at an uncomfortable angle. His young assistants helped place him on the operating table.

"Checking for life signs...pulse is weak, face is pale...corneas unresponsive to light...mouth is filmy. Rehydrate intravenously."

The tube installed in the corner of the cabin ceiling squealed and Qlippothic's voice could be heard through the squeals and pops of the Marconi waves, but barely understood through violent sounds of ripping metal and wet crunching.

"Attacking with maximum force. Target is absorbing blows. Natural weaponry compromising armor in multiple locations."

As Wren and Lo held Beck's arm and slid in a needle attached to a rubber tube, Dr. Mason cut away the patient's filth-encrusted clothes and sprayed him down with a cleaning solution in a brass cylinder while he searched for wounds.

"No sign of concussion." He murmured as he wrapped Beck in a clean white hospital gown. "The coma must be shellshock...Nurse! Monocle!"

"Attempting to restrain subject." Qli continues. "Physical strength rivals...exceeds my own."

Lo reached across a long tray of shining bladed implements to pick up a glass circle ringed in brass and connected to bronze filigree in the shape of a handle. It was the only piece of jewelry he wore regularly, aside from the Wulfenbach cravat pin he wore on official business. He clutched it and pressed it to his eye as he leaned over Beck, staring straight into his dilated cornea.

"OH MY GOD!"

Dr. Mason recoiled in horror just as the craft shook from another crash below.

"QLIPPOTHIC! AMA!" He scrambled to his feet and shouted into the voice tube. "Beck's soul is ABSENT! There are TWO astral cords! Triangulating!"

He knelt on the floor squinting into the lens through the hull of the ship. As greenish wisps he could make out the shapes of the Jagers, continuing to fight on despite their horrific wounds. His mechanical daughter's energy spheres shone brightly as she was bent and thrown about the creature's lair like a ragdoll by a force his lens could not see. There was the demon-daughter, pulling a stunned Jager from the muck before he drowned.

"Ama! The beast is using a talisman! Somewhere close to you! Qli! The monster has Dr. Beck's soul in..."

"Understood, Father! Attempting to pry open..."

The young nurses covered their ears as the sound of tearing metal and the monster's roar of hunger made the entire airship tremble.

"The boxcar's slipping into the bay!" Shouted Koen. "We cut the tube or we slide down with them!"

Dr. Mason looked down at the young assistants. "You two. Take Dr. Beck off this ship, now."

Steal Head: Forward Observer

2010-10-25T13:25:00.000-07:00

In the dark waters of Steelhead Bay, the shimmering reflection of the harvest moon was dusturbed by an glass orb bobbing to the surface, which immediately began to hiss with smoke then explode in a sodium flash.

Watching nervously from the roof of the Bazaar near one of the upturned corners of the Asian style roof, Vevel flinched from the explosion. He lowered the heat-binoculars to let them hang from his neck and knelt to crank the Marconi transmitter. After a few seconds of rattling the bulb on the wooden box brightened to a pale gold, and sounds of static leaked from the round wire cage. He cleared his throat, then pressed the transmitter button.

"Bazaar to Revenge! Jager Team is ready!"

An abrupt click broke the static as Nova responded.

"Roger that, Bazaar. Brass Team is ready. Operation Mongoose is a go!"

Velvel stood again, raising the lenses to his eyes as he watched the glass-walled ship slowly descend by the opposite edge of the bay. The merchant focused at the flurry of activity inside the cabin. Nova and Six were manning the cockpit. In the cabin, the Scientist was in full surgical gear, hastily arranging tables and equipment in the cramped quarters for triage, with two young girls in white smocks scurrying around, and at times crawling under around him with each gesture.

The one with the burning circle of red in her chest was Wren, of course. But who was the other one? The Scientist crouched to tie a mask over her mouth.

Velvel muttered. "Oh yes, that's Lo." He knew she had family in Steelhead, and was on staff with the Scientist at Wilde Hospital.

His attention shifted to the android and the demoness on the top deck, their heat signatures almost as glaring as the ship's engines. Both wore bandaliers weighted down with an array of devices, at least half of which he assumed were weapons. Ama wore an aromored suit of some sort, and held her wings tight to her body. Part of him understood the tension behind the signals of her wings.

The glare from Qlippothic and Amarantis was so bright that he didn't notice the neko standing on top of the device until a pair of crimson eyes stared directly at him from across the bay. He peeked over his lenses a moment, and realized that but for the eyes Koen radiated no heat at all. Qlippothic pulled a lever and a wide, flexible tube descended bast the hull. Ama leaned over the deck, watching the neko who was clinging for dear life to the end of the tube. What was that thing made of? He could make out the lattice of wires inside it as it swayed gently in the damp night breeze.

The neko's shimmering eyes blinked as he descended until his pawed feet reached the roof of the half-submerged boxcar. A second later and the eyes were shielded behind a pair of goggles. Pulling a mallet from his toolbelt, Koen crawled around the end of the tubes, hammering madly. Eruptions of sparks flashed the neko's sihouette against the gray tube. The flashes of heat forced Velvel to look away again.

He set his sights back on to the deck of the Bloodwing's Revenge. He watched first Qlippothic and then Amarantis crawl into the machine feet-first. As vague outlines of red he followed them down through the tube as Koen clambered his way back up the tube from the outside, his cold outline momentarily shielding the heat auras of his sisters. Velvel watched Koen reach the top of the machine to stand and catch his breath, but as he removed his goggles he dropped them and hit the deck the moment the explosions began.

Velvel himself lost his grip on his binoculars and as he fumbled and slipped feet-first towards the edge of the Bazaar tower.

"DA!" Velvel shouted with irritation. "I could be using your help!"

As Velvel Danielovich held to the gutter with one hand while dangling the lenses with the other, glowing white wings stretched from his back.

Epidemic #3

2010-10-13T07:01:00.000-07:00

My apologies for the recent silence. We've finished with yet another zombie epidemic in New Babbage. This time I built an innoculator rifle to deliver cures from the safety of the Consulate roof.

Meanwhile, I received word from Qlippothic that the Steelhead militia is very close to cornering the "Steel Head" creature. Because we know the abomination has at least one human enthralled as a Herald, I cannot say more.

Be careful, Qli. Xavael tells me this creature was once worshipped as a god; the sort of being he was sent to this world to destroy before he Fell. "It is a shadow of its former self...like myself.", the angel says. "Its insatiable hunger and cunning desperation are fueled by the memory of what it seeks to regain. Destroy it while it is still a shadow, or no soul will be safe!"

the angel over Steelhead

2010-09-13T21:12:00.000-07:00

two if by sea

2010-08-30T19:33:00.000-07:00

"What do you mean you DROPPED him?" I paced back and forth across the laboratory as Kane shifted from one red-stained steel talon to the other uncomfortably.

"Doctor. You did say 'LET GO'. Twice. At the first command I presumed you meant to dislodge my claws from his..." I shut my eyes and held my temples.

"Alright. I understand. So Marcus is...gone. I suppose it's for the best..." Kane's beak pointed to the side as the iris of his right eye tightened.

"But Doctor...I saw your giant robotic squid recover your brother's body." I stopped pacing and stared back at the mechanical crow.

"Mr. Qork? I don't have..."

"It had your family crest painted on the shell, Sir. But the device did seem to be in dire need of repairs..." I covered my mouth with a gasp, and bolted upstairs to the Consulate library. Kane hopped along close behind me. I pulled the copy of the Heroic Adventures of Jeremiah Mason that Miss Nightfire had recovered from the dust of Steeltopia Library and flipped open a two-page illustration of a kraken rendered in shimmering metal.

"Was this what you saw, Kane?" He stared at the drawing for a few seconds, and nodded. I tapped my finger on the caption beneath it. The ILLUMINAUTILUS.

Meanwhile, the lights on the broken frequency helmet that I had set on my lab table downstairs began to flicker.

.- ... .... / -- .- ... --- -. / - --- / -.. .-. / -- .- ... --- -. / .--. .- -. -.. --- .-. ..- ... / .-.. --- -.-. .- - . -.. / .--. .-.. . .- ... . / .- -.. ...- .. ... .

For your listening pleasure

2010-08-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

not an angel when I die

2010-08-18T08:56:00.000-07:00

A brilliant design I made for Mr. Qork, if I do say so myself. I watched through my frequency visualization helmet as Kane drew in his wings and plunged, opening his talons and snapping them closed again around my brother's shoulders as he tumbled. Once he was secured, Kane curved back to a steady altitude.

Marcus was captured in such a way that his face was staring up at Kane. My assistant turned his avian head sideways to stare back though an optic sensor.

"Your brother is rescued, Doctor!" he chirped as he banked in a long arc back towards New Babbage.

"Another one of your toys sent to murder me, Darien?"

I took a deep breath and addressed him through Kane's audio system. "I've finally figured out what you are, Marcus. You're a walking virus. Alive, you can merge on a cellular level into any organism and control it with but a touch. Even dead you are still dangerous, as your spirit you can possess any machine. Every device I've built since you stole my body before have subroutines installed, just to prevent you from using my work against me again. That includes Mr. Qork here."

"So you'll keep me in a brain jar, trapped between life and death?" He chuckled as he shook his head. "A Prince of Erebus has the right to choose..."

The camera's view of his indignant face dissolved into static, but was cut short by a scream. I shuddered when the picture became clear again."

"Doctor Mason!" cried Kane with alarm, "my talons snapped shut! I couldn't stop..."

Of course. I designed those subroutines to kill him.

"LET GO! LET GO!" I was screaming as I ripped the frequency helmet from my head and smashed it into the tea set on the carpet that I had already overturned. Wren backed away, cleaning rag still in her hand. She looked up at me with a slightly frightened look on her face.

"M--more tea, Father?"

Audio Assault: Canolli Capolini vs. Darien Mason!

2010-08-16T07:39:00.000-07:00

canolli.capolini: Who needs Whitney Houston.. we have Lin Yu Chun now...

me: To which I must respond with

canolli.capalini: I call your really bad karoake and raise you

me: I have a Swedish bluegrass band singing about Ragnarok. That renders your argument invalid.

canolli.capalini: I submit a bluegrass band doing Highway to Hell (and yes, I have these albums)

me: (I had friend in my college dorm who did a bluegrass version of Crazy [Freight] Train)
Yes but do you have...
Communist Japanese klezmer!

canolli.capalini: (cracks up)

canolli.capalini: ROFLMAO
no.. but I do have Lounge Singer extraordinaire..

me: I find the riff stolen from Sesam Street more disturbing than the lyrics.
canolli.capalini: You should hear his version of Come out and Play by the Offspring..
he has personally ruined half the music I held dear to my heart.
makes me want to shout Mazel tov every time
me: besides, lounge NiN? Done before:

Pig - Head Like A Hole
canolli.capalini: lol

alright alright.. German country band doing Depeche Mode..

better yet.. doing Madonna..

Texas Lightning - Like a Virgin
me: Alright, the steel guitar lends itself to that format.
me: I prefer my Madonna with a touch of Industrial.

canolli.capalini: oh i've heard that before! that's great!..
me: and speaking of things that should not be...

Beatallica - Thing That Should not LET IT BE
canolli.capalini: NOOOOoooooo!
me: YES!
Roll a SANity Check!
canolli.capalini: okay, i'm countering with Summer Breeze.. but i don't think it tops that.

Type O Negative - Summer Breeze
me: Heard that one, emphasis on the shadows in the mind
You know I have to blog this conversation, right?
canolli.capalini: I kind of assumed
this is all sorts of awesomeness
me: /me nods.

canolli.capalini: and it would not be complete without Shoggoth on the roof, you know that..

If i were a Deep One-Shoggoth on the Roof
Sent at 9:39 AM on Monday
me: Devil Reef, you say?

canolli.capalini: oh..that's priceless.. this doesn't top it, but is disturbing in it's own right.. Japanese girl band doing 1970's american pop band covers.

me: I need a bowl of motzoh ball soup and pint of Guiness to wash that down:

canolli.capalini: if you're going the way of mashed potatoes.. seasame street is coming back..

me: OK, that is awesome
I have no choice but to unleash my secret weapon
canolli.capalini: raises an eyebrow
me: You've been KURTROLLED!

canolli.capalini: omg
first off, is that what Rick Astley looked like? geez.. and secondly.. it's a beautiful harmony in minor keys..
me: let's call it a tie before someone bursts an ear drum!
canolli.capalini: wait.. i have one more if I can find it..

this one tops it.. and I have DJ Dregg Gothly in SL to thank for it.
for the knowledge of it, rather.
Sent at 9:54 AM on Monday
me: wow. closest thing I have to that is

canolli.capalini: well, I have to hand it to you.. your prowess at finding obscurity in tunage is impressive.
me: as is yours, Madam. A toast to Dr. Demento!
canolli.capalini: here here..
canolli.capalini: just as an afternote, for s&g's.. in your spare time (and not for blog content) you might do a search on "Predator Sings" on youtube..

me: Cowardly Lion? O__o
canolli.capalini: it's .. different.
me: /me jumps ship!

lifeline

2010-08-15T07:15:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in my favorite chair in the smoker's lounge of the Wulfenbach Consulate in New Babbage. Although Wren was placing the tea set on the low table in front of me, it was not to her that I was speaking. In fact except for the soft clink of the tray resting on the table, I would not have noticed her presence at all.

Rather, I was speaking through the microphone of a rather bulky helmet attuned to my assistant Kane Qork's sentience frequencies. Through the replacement construct body I had built for him in the shape of a crow (he was at one time a gargoyle who fell victim to New Babbage's absurd city planning policies) I was watching the unfolding battle against the demon-wasp invasion from a safe distance.

Kane was perched on the floating Hassanov ironclad, which was providing a steady barrage against the hydrogen-filled Vesprium airships. The enemy fleet was definitely thinning out. We had not seen any new ships emerge from the gigantic red portal for over an hour since the Wasp Queen herself emerged from the hellgate.

"This big bug is much faster than the airships," the pilot, a veritable walking tank known as Iason Hassanov, observed grimly from the battle bridge. "Movements are impossible to track. Cannons will be ineffective against it from this distance."

"I am not familiar with the powers of the Vesprium Queen, Agent Hassanov" I replied through Kane's acoustic system, "but I do know we must..."

Kane's telescopic irises suddenly magnified with a speed that nearly made me nauseous (this is why I had Wren brew me chamomile). It was a human...male...plummeting from center of combat where Bloodwing and an apparent angel (some newfound ally to whom I was not yet introduced) were in a dogfight with the Queen.

"He looks just like you except for lack of facial hair, Doctor!" chirped Kane.

"Just like...?" I jumped from my seat, accidentally flipping over the tea set. "DEAR GOD THAT'S MY BROTHER MARCUS! CATCH HIM!"

I've gone to Fallen London!

2010-08-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

Well, not *me* me. Another version of me. In a parallel universe, you might say. In a city pulled into the underworld. A capital now located East of Hell and ruled by the Bazaar, a greedy cabal of an unguessable species. It's a city where rats and mushrooms are the staple diet. Where royalty and urchins alike endure nightmares not entirely their own. Where clergy and ambassadors of Hell vie for your immortal soul. It's stocked with spies and pirates and monster hunters. Populated with stoic golems and walking squids, whispering cats and mechanically inclined rats. A world where ancient plaques can set your eyes ablaze and your reflection never quite copies you the way it should.

I invite you to read The adventures of one Doctor Darien Mason in Fallen London. If you dare.

Illuminautilus*

2010-08-03T05:56:00.000-07:00

Blind, transparent fish slither over the spiraling metal shell of a vessel now half-buried in the silt of the ocean floor. The only illumination comes from their phosphorescent lobes of their antennae. A tremor causes the fish to scatter. A layer of sand slides away, cutting the darkness with a malevolent jade glow radiating from a convex porthole.

Were one able to survive the crushing depths, one might dare to peer through into claustrophobic corridors choked with rusted devices and floating skeletons, still clad in their black uniforms and yellow armbands. The design on them is unmistakable. The black ziggurat supporting a pillar of flame, flanked by red demon wings. The corpses lurch slightly with each new tremor. The shockwaves are coming from within the vessel. In the center, where the glow is strongest. The choking darkness of the abyss cannot reach this chamber where the orb, twice the size of a man, rattles against the steel cables and copper tubes that secure it to the inoperative consoles attended by half a dozen lifeless quislings. Within the murky cloud of the orb itself, bare fists pound relentlessly against the sphere.

A face presses to the glass, his unkempt beard hinting to the length of his imprisonment and his eyes consumed with madness. He stares at the machine that sustained him. The last drop of elixir in the glass tube is drawn by pressure into the orb. No one can hear his curses. If one did, they would shrivel a man's soul. Again he pounds the orb with fists and bare feet. Each time they pierce the opaqueness of the solution within. they seem larger, more twisted. Cracks begin to spread like spiderwebs across the surface. In an instant, he is free, floating in the glittering remains of the glass sphere and reanimation fluid swirling in the water around him. The man is only recognizable as Jeremiah Mason for a moment before his features flow like wax, and he expands into something far less describable.

The ship trembles, the ocean floor's quiet is disturbed not by the throbbing of destroyed engines, but by the rhythm of a heartbeat. A massive eye fills the pace of the porthole, and rotates and blinks with opaque membranes that wrap around it like a burial shroud and quickly retreat. A cloud of dust rises about the ship as rusted tentacles spring to life, digging the rest of the ship free from debris. It is a ship designed in mimicry of a nautilus, a beast of such size that could only have roamed the seas when the world was young. With a quickening pulse setting the rhythm to the fluid motion of its manipulators, the living ship rises. Only after it has ascended so far that the green radiance of its dozens of portholes no longer trace curves across the ocean floor do the colorless fish timidly return to the spot where they had gathered, now a jagged crater in the cast of a submerged terror forgotten and now reborn.

*The author wishes to thank Torley Linden for the name by which this abomination has been christened.

Presented by Request of the Artist

2010-07-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

Original Song- Internet Date by Veronique Chevalier

Paging Dr. Mason?

2010-07-20T09:15:00.000-07:00

Will the RCAF Officer who was asking for my whereabouts at Wilde Hospital kindly telegraph me at this address? Thank you.

contingencies

2010-06-19T07:13:00.000-07:00

It's normal for me to be working until the dead of night. Normally I keep my scientific endeavors separate from my hospital work, and vice versa. But upon receiving the Guvna's dispatch, but since I was on shift at William Wilde Hospital when I received the dispatch I had no choice but commandeer a surgical table at Wilde as a drafting board.

One copy for the Guvna. One for the Clockwinder. One for Mama Gabi. One for the Emperor. One for Mayor Lunar.

"Do you plan to build all these ships yourself?" asked Wren as I handed her the tubes for delivery to the New Babbage Post Office.

"No. It's a much grander scale than even the Caravel. Hopefully, they won't be necessary. But they need to start building the aetherships immediately in the event that we must evacuate..."

"What's this about an evacuation?"

I looked across the table from me at a rather stunned Dr. Beck.

Steampunk Transformer

2010-06-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

withdrawal and reattachment

2010-06-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

After finding me in the bayou of New Toulouse, Amarantis pulled me back to the new Sir William Wilde Hospital in New Babbage. I had just accepted a position there, but in this instance I was the one being examined. Yes, the adjustment to life without a steady reanimation serum supply has been challenging. I have to keep reminding myself I'm not as invincible as I once was, and that physical pain is more than a mere nuisance.

While I'm no longer able to synthesize the serum in my own bloodstream, my daughter Wren's gas-powered rabbit is still saturated. It's a simple matter to withdraw another dose from it instead.

I have used the serum. Not on myself, of course. I performed a tongue transplant on a gentleman at the Wilde just the other day. The nurse fainted dead away when after I injected the tongue and it immediately started flapping like a fish in my tongs! I am proud to say the attachment was a success. I wonder what he'll tell me once he remasters the art of speech.

Ama confirms what I witnessed. Bloodwing has now possessed my father and taken over the aerial battle with the Vesprium after the clockwork ship named after him escaped forwards in time.

As powerful as the Founder may be, he can't fight an army by himself. I've spoken to the leaders of the Steamlands and appraised them of the situation. Little is known about the Vesprium. Traditionally they were even more isolationist than Erebus was, but obviously they are now intent on conquest. What is clear is that the Vesprium do not belong in this world. They must be driven back or eradicated.

I've alerted the rulers of the Steamlands to the magnitude of the danger. Already Agent Iason Hassanov is en route in a flying dreadnought.

And do you think I'm just going sit on the sidelines? Of course not!

One Year

2010-06-03T08:17:00.000-07:00

June 6th will mark the first anniversary of the Pogrom, when the Governance wing of Linden Labs unjustly erased the avatars for Darien, Marcus, Jeremiah, Koen, Ash, Qlippothic and Qli-2.

What have they accomplished? They have succeeded in further alienating what was their most enthusiastic and creative user base. They have given me reason to expand my activities as a steampunk aficionado and a science-fiction writer into other realms, much to my benefit.

In honor of those who have wronged me (and who may have been recently outplaced from the Labs) I dedicate this song.

the time has come to galvanize

2010-05-27T07:23:00.000-07:00

(Continued from my Father's journal, Dear Reader.)

I was alive. Barely. The stream of eternal life that had coursed through my blood was completely drained. Before I even had the chance to adjust, I felt as if something else was ripping itself from the core of my being. It was excruciating yet at the same instance exhilarating, a wrenching of body and spirit I have not felt since my demonic ancestor was exorcised from his complete control of my body, allowing me to again pursue my own destiny.

My eyelids refused to open. My ears caught fragments of Qlippothic's distress call, shocking me to a limited form of awareness. My ears, however, continued to deceive me. Familiar voices in impossible context...my father Jeremiah and the Founder himself...in conversation?

"Jeremiah! We have no time! Your son always carries an extra set of clothes on his expeditions."

If I could move, I would have at the very least scowled at the sound of my possessions being ransacked. "No boots...I can't trudge through this swamp in patent leather shoes!"

"You will not need footwear. We must take wing."

"Did he get here by ornithopter? I don't see a seaplane..."

"You do not understand, Sixth Son. I am now a spirit only. I need a host, and Darien does not have time to recover."

"Are you suggesting...? NO! I nearly destroyed the world just to..."

"Because you had lost your conscience, Sixth Son! Which you have now regained!"

There was a short silence that seemed to dilate time by its very weight. "I...do I get a choice on this?"

"Not if you wish to save your grandchildren, and the Captain and the ship upon which he raised you."

Now that was a bit jarring. I would have dismissed it off-hand as part of my delusions but that it did explain the missing chapters for his early biography, and his obsession for the antiquated styles of airships.

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise as Bloodwing drew magical energy from the bayou around us for the ancient rite. The Founder spoke again. "It is tradition for the Host to recite the Mason's Oath before the merge."

"Founder...after you cured me, my heartsong...changed. This is what I must recite...

And I believe that we'll conceive
to bring this Earth closer to Heaven
Restore the world - the Promised Land
a Paradise of hearts and minds
until I see this Kingdom's time
I'll turn from Darkness to the Light
I'll heal the blind
God's will be done
until the day I see His Kingdom
has now come.

The shattering crack of lightning around us came with an avalanche of light so great that my eyelids did nothing to deaden the pain of its brilliance. My eyes finally blinked and opened wide to see Jeremiah lifted in a spiral of primal energy, overlaid with the image of the Founder himself. Bloodwing's somber tone suddenly dissolved to jubilant laughter.

"Your soul remembers, Sixth Son! It remembers my vow with the Fallen Angel! The Matron of our line!"

Jeremiah's features flowed like wax, growing in musculature and weaving tattoos recalling ancient scars across now-pallid flesh. He shuddered in the air from which he was suspended as wings erupted from his back. His nails stretched to black claws in his shaking fists, and upon his head where his hair now fell about him in a crimson mane, horns spiraled outwards from his skull with the sound of sharp cracking of bone.

At that final phase of transformation, his scream rolled across the bayou, striking more terror in my heart than the lightning. The trauma of my own first transformation was revived within me, and seized my brain, snatching me with its talons and scarlet wings back into the realm of nightmares.

ripples in the pond

2010-05-20T05:56:00.000-07:00

Caught in the Wasps' Nest

The Fathers Return

The Clockwork Caravel's desperate gambit

Dr. Beck tends to those touched by an Angel

The Stranger in Shanghai

2010-05-13T07:53:00.000-07:00

A small boy in a dirty blue tunic squinted, looking about nervously as the Westerner in the suit and hat lead him through the narrow alleyways of Steelhead Shanghai. The man's white glove held his his grubby little hand gently but firmly. Leather boots splashed through ankle-deep puddles, and the boy did his best to jump over the pools in his sandals. The man waved his cane at the cluster of rats swarming over a pile of garbage, dispersing them as they passed.

He spoke in a halting Mandarin, the tones slightly off. "Is this near your home?" He pointed with his cane. "That way? Maybe that way?"

"You! Stop there!"

The pair froze in place as three burly men in black silk stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking their way.

"You think you can steal our children?"

He stammered "Nyet..." as he looked behind him to see another squad of men blocking the way they came "No! He was lost! I was bringing him back!"

Knives and cleavers glimmered in the trace of moonlight that leaked through from between the crumbling buildings.

"How much money," the man said in a louder tone, "how much?"

They only chuckled. "The tong doesn't take money from scum like you! Give us the boy!"

"So you can ransom him?" He raised his defensively, and beckoned with his other hand in a gesture he knew they would find offensive. "I think not."

The tong surged towards him from both sides. The man pushed the boy against the wall before he slammed the hook of his cane down on the first man's wrist, twisting his arm and making him scream in pain and drop his blade. He then snapped the cane back down and jabbed the hook of his cane between the leader's eyes, just as he planted his boot squarely in the chest of the man charging him from behind. The other two thugs in back pressed themselves to the walls as the thug fell backwards into a murky puddle.

As the ring leader collapsed, his two assistants grabbed him under his arms before he could sink in the alley filth. The tong lurched backwards instinctively as they heard the ring of steel being drawn from the length of the cane. The gentleman kept the tip of his sword-cane leveled at the eyes of the criminals in front, and cast a quick glance backwards at the other two still standing, waving the shaft of his cane threateningly.

"You fight like a monk! But you won't leave here alive! There's no way out of here!"

"You're right...no where else to go..."

White wings unfurled through slits in the man's jacket. The darkness of the alley was shattered by a brilliant white light. Rats screeched and fled as the thugs covered their eyes.

"...but up."

The boy, unlike the members of the tong, did not look away. He stared, mouth agape, and brushed his hand lightly along the white feathers.

"Beautiful!"

The tong retreated around the corners and into the safety of the darkness they knew.

"Do you see your home, child?"

The boy pointed forwards. "Yes! Just like day! Four doors down on the right!" He ran ahead, the winged man following steadily behind as he sheathed his blade back in his cane. The boy pounded on the door. "Mama!"

The tattered door swung open on protesting rusted hinges as the woman rushed to scoop him up in his arms. She shut her eyes tight, stunned from the unexpected light. The boy tried to bow as best he could while being squeezed by his mother.

"Thank you Mister Angel! Thank you!"

The boy craned his neck upwards as he watched the winged man hoist himself to a fire escape, leap across to another other and clamber to the rooftop.

"You are welcome!" He shouted. "Do not get lost again!"

After a momentary snap of flapping wings, the slums were again enveloped in darkness, but the excited chatter of the residents quickly rose and spread to every corner.

My website to the tune of...

2010-05-06T18:51:00.001-07:00

I thought I would sound like VNV Nation, but it reminds me more of Westminster Chimes. Since I do a lot of clockwork I'd say it's appropriate.

Qlippothic's site sounds like a military horn section, rather heroic. I approve.

Koen's site sounds like a Cure song. No, not Lovecats. But I'm still jealous of the boy for that.

Who would want me as a Game Master?

2010-05-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

Well, let's find out, shall we? A lot of my online friends have asked about roleplaying with me, even though they don't use Second Life. I've conjured up an alternate Earth with zombies and kraken, where the Romans built factories and Da Vinci built airships. Now imagine a Victorian London in this world with a Blade Runner-esque feel. The story will advance by email and wiki, much like my New Erebus adventure and Hotspur's Black Pearl epic.

I'm accepting humans, cat-people (Kadis), and constructs as player characters. There are occultists and alchemists, but no magic in the high fantasy sense. Once I get enough committed players I'll design a plot appropriate to their skills.

The link is here: http://www.obsidianportal.com/campaigns/uchronia

something takes a part of me

2010-05-03T10:17:00.000-07:00

I could only manage a defiant hiss as I desperately to pry off disembodied hand that was cutting off the circulation in my neck. I could still hear the Vortex howling with laughter behind the hellgate.

"Hey wait", interrupted the prince as he pressed his face to the portal. "Is that hand growing?"

I was barely able loosen the grip enough for me to breathe. My eyes widened as I watched a forearm weave itself of bones and vessels and flesh from the wrist. A new form of weakness overcame me.

The shocking realization came to me. This was my father's hand...the man from whom my brother and I were made as clones. The reanimation serum my body was producing recognized the hand as part of my body and would not stop until it completely restored our shared pattern! Of course, I could not explain this to the Vortex even if I wished to, since I soon had half a torso weighing down the arm that throttled me.

"Okayyy...I did not expect this...fascinating though from a scientific perspective I must admit..."

My eyes darted across the night-shrouded mist for anything...the altar...there was still a blade...even the lit cigar...

Vortex stared down at me through the portal as he continued to converse with (I must assume) Papa Legba. "Oh this is amazing! Actually this sort of thing does happen a lot in my family..."

I was so close to reaching the blade with my fingertips when I was jerked violently backwards. My last moments of consciousness were face-to-face with my father, his skin and hair knitting themselves to completion across his face, contorted in the same breathless expression of panic as my own.

Beware of Masons bearing gifts

2010-04-20T11:06:00.000-07:00

"Of course it's me, you idiot!", snarled the Vortex with the twist of sarcasm only my brother Marcus could pull off. He rose from his seat and strode towards his side of the portal. "I stole your body before, but now I'm sharing this one! And such a powerful one this is! I helped slay the Hydra once and for all while your wretched alleycat of a son ran back to Babbage with his tail between his legs! To the victor goes the spoils!"

"Back to...Babbage? So that was Koen that took Qlippothic!"

The cat-demon prince shrugged as he lifted the black box. "As I said, that doesn't concern me. But this concerns us both." He pushed the box against his side of the circle floating above Poppa Legba's altar, and sparks poured from the aperture around the sides of the box as it permeated the membrane from the royal crater of Erebus to my side, deep in the swamps of New Toulouse.

Hesitantly, I accepted the gift with both hands. It was heavy, whatever it was. Still hot to the touch.

"This appeared on my throne, Darien. I only know a couple beings in the universe with the magic and the chuzzle..."

"Chutzpah?"

"Yeah, that...to pull a trick like that off."

I felt along the edges for a lid or a catch. "Have you tried to open it yet?"

The neko giggled. "Open it? I put it in there!"

A spring-loaded catch, opened form inside. That must be the reason the lib suddenly jerked upwards, nearly breaking my jaw and stunning me. I sank to my knees as Vortex howled laughter. I struggled to regain my focus as he berated me like a schoolyard bully singing "POP goes the neko!" My vision was blurred, making the pale disembodied hand resting in the red velvet inside the box appear to have several sets of fingers.

"You've heard of a Jack-in-the-Box?" shouted Vortex. "This is a Jeremiah-in-the-Box!"

My eyes widened with terror as the hand sprang to life and leaped towards me, latching itself in a choking grip around my throat!

The rending of the veil

2010-04-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

My children conspiring against me. Flying off in a clockwork galleon. My vampiric ancestor Aleister has to be involved. Has he cast his tainted cloak of undeath over my son yet again? Is he again reprogramming Qlippothic into a murder-doll? Why is Ash abetting them? This will not do at all. I may not be Regent, but someone must maintain order in this family!

As long as I'm in the bayou of New Tolouse, I should seek help from the forces here. Baroness Amber presented me with a small effigy of Poppa Legba and a copy of Momma Amber's Guide to Voodoo for Tourists.

Poppa Legba is the go-between of the loa, the Voodoo pantheon. I found a secluded location by the water where the song of the calling frogs was almost deafening. The night mist was pungent with the muck of rotting plant life.

I constructed an altar there. I lit a very rare cigar as an offering (I recognized the brand as my father's favorite) and poured a glass of premium dark rum to the brim as I invoked him.

Immediately the chirping of the frogs died out. Even the ever-present buzzing of the insects seemed to fade. As I waited, the ember of the cigar pulsed between cherry red and white hot, puffing thick tobacco into the night mist. The glass of rum lowered visibly until it emptied. Staring at the...for lack of a better word doll fashioned in his image, I beseeched him for a favor.

"Poppa Legba. If you please, I must speak with the Vortex."

I heard the sound of distant thunder rolling across the marshes. Vague orbs of greenish light hovered in the darkness between the trees. I stepped back as a rift opened above the altar, curling red and black borders spreading like a cigar burn in the fabric of space.

"A call from whom? Darien? Yes, yes, I know him. Fine. I'll accept."

On the other side, I saw a neko with majestic horns arcing from his temples. He sat in a throne forged of metal ribbons, pondering a black box he held in his hands. Crimson gazed up at me in surprise as his ears twitched.

"Well surprise surprise! What do you want?"

Judging from the informal greeting, I decided to skip the lengthy exaltations expected of the ruler of Erebus.

"Vortex. Aleister has kidnapped Qlippothic and Koen..."

The neko lifted his head back and cackled, baring his fangs.

"Why should any of that matter to us? We don't need that cowardly kitten any more, nor that brass toy of yours!

Demon-Prince or no, I felt my fist clench at such disrespect. But wait...that maniacal laughter was so familiar...

...from the prison of my brain jar I screamed in helpless silence as the body that was rightfully mine pressed its face against my glass prison, cackling in unbridled madness...

I gasped in disbelief. "MARCUS!"

Friends on the same side, Powers on the other side

2010-04-02T19:12:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I was a bit hard on her. But when human life is at stake, prescriptions must be followed exactly.

Qlippothic's disappearance continues to infuriate me. I contacted Ash aboard the Clockwork Caravel to have him pinpoint her location from orbit. He complied, but the ship's radio went dead shortly thereafter. Amarantis is involved on another assignment and unable to assist.

There was some excellent news this week from Colonel O'Toole and Lady Riel. They both have been trusted friends for a very long time, and it distressed me to see them at odds.

I visited New Tolouse to share my elation with Mama Gabi. While admiring the sights, i ran into another old friend, Lady Amber Palowakski. She now resides on a stretch of swampland there. The magic is strong on her land, of course. As we relaxed by the campfire, a resident tree spirit circled me playfully, nodding its head to the drumbeats of an ongoing ceremony somewhere deep within the bog.

I explained my present difficulties, and she explained that the loa, the spirits of this land, may be willing to help me if offered the right gifts. I have seen voodoo magic first-hand, it not to be trifled with. If the loa can open a portal from New Babbage (reality-bomb fallout and all) and back to New Tolouse, then they can create a portal to anywhere.

They're not my henchmen. Really.

2010-04-01T17:09:00.000-07:00

Just concerned associates.

Miss Jameson Searches for The Scientist, and Antfarm is Approached by an Angel

2010-03-30T18:34:00.000-07:00

He's a sneaky fellow, that one.

The Scientist - Part 1

The Scientist - Part 2

What of the Angel?

Oh. And a Minor Mishap at Mason Labs. Let's not speak of this one again.

none will be saved

2010-03-25T18:59:00.000-07:00

"FATHERRRR!"

Qlippothic screamed as her Sephiroth shattered in a cascade of deepest hues as breathtaking as it was heart-wrenching to behold.

Darien lay silent on the floor, his white lab coat scorched and cut to ribbons, oozing with the emerald serum that had replaced his blood as his body continued to smolder.

"Daddy?" Moaned Wren as she crawled out from under him. Looking down, she saw that she was undamaged. Her father had taken the full brunt of the explosion for her. She flipped him over on his back. She covered her mouth as she gasped. She was no stranger to gore at this point, but to see her father in this extreme condition...

Her expression turned to relief as she watched his organs draw back into his body by themselves. His open fractures abruptly snapped back into place. He slowly sat up. Both lenses of his goggles were shattered, but the emerald glow in his eyes shone even brighter than before, cutting through the smoke filling the laboratory like a foglight.

"QLI!" He quickly limped past the equipment array, ignoring the still exploding showers of sparks. He reached the table where his Firstbuilt lay just in time to see the glow of her eyes fade to complete darkness. Her cranium was warped from the explosions inside. Leaving the top of her metallic skull misshapen and and dulled from the heat. Her face, at least, still kept its serene mask.

"Qlippothic..." Darien shook his head as he cupped his hand behind her head, ignoring the sizzling sounds as it burned his flesh. "My God, Qli...I'm sorry...I should have listened to you..." Glowing green tears hissed as they landed on near-molten brass.

"Daddy?" Whispered Wren as she quietly followed him to the table. "Is she...repairable?"

He shook his head sadly. "No Wren. The Sephiroth were unique. Irreplaceable. Her soul was bound to them. Unless..." He tapped his fingers on Qlippothic's chassis as his burning gaze fell down towards the revived urchin. "Wren? How would you like an upgrade?"

A thunder of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed through the consulate as the clank dropped through the roof, landing upright on the laboratory floor with a tremor that shook the Consulate.

"No, Doctor Mason..." boomed the construct as it lumbered across the cracking tiles, "this madness ends now." The pistons of massive claws whined as they stretched forward, opening to reveal the large bores aimed squarely at the Scientist. "By the authority granted me by Baron Klaus Wulfenbach in matters of the Consulate, I place you under arrest for the murder of my sister..."

Ash was unable to complete his sentence as a blur of a tentacle lashed around his exoskeleton and slammed him through a wall of equipment. The tentacle slowly retracted through Darien's sleeve as he sneered at the fallen android.

"Foolish CLANK! You dare to think you can stand in the way of SCIENCE!" His voice grew increasingly bestial as he spoke, almost as much a bubbling roar than speech. Wren stared at the tentacle a moment, then quickly ran for the exit as Darien continued. "Even though her spirit was consumed, the experiment was a SUCCESS!" Darien advanced slowly as crimson wings erupted from his back and quickly warped into misshapen and tattered banners. "For the span of three minutes and forty seconds we recreated the effect of the ancient Arcane Towers that once powered this region!" he cackled. "Magical energy is flooding into New Babbage as we speak! This is a new reality that only *I* fully comprehend! The Steamlands shall BEG me to teach them my revised laws of physics for this BOLD NEW ERA, the PAX MASONICA!!!"

Ash's retort was a crack and flash of his Tesla cannon as lightning wrapped around the Scientist, hurling him backwards through the air. A jagged metal I-beam pierced through his chest as his limbs trembled violently. Several sickening popping sounds erupted from his frame as the electricity dispersed within the next few seconds, leaving his barely recognizable body to hang limp from where he was impaled.

Ash manually pried open the containment unit of his now depleted exoskeleton. With an expressionless metal face he scanned the damage to the room, and focused his sensors upwards at his creator.

"Life signs: Negative. Pandorus neutralized..." He telescoped his legs to reach the ceiling. He wrapped his arms around the charred corpse and began to pull it free from the beam. "I had no choice..."

"NOW YOU HAVE NONE!" Shrieked the shape that expanded around Ash as it sprouted a ghastly array of writhing limbs. The android struggled only a moment before it was crushed inwards. The metal shell fell backwards on its stilted legs to collapse in the corner. Its chest was ripped open, and the dust that was once its soul-chip floated from it to mingle with the thick layers of smoke.

Bony limbs stretched to the floor, dozens of claws on the misshapen appendages scraped deep gashes of chaotic patterns in the tiles. "SUCH DELICIOUS POWER! MORE! MORE!" The roof peeled upwards as the gargantuan horror that was once Darien James Mason savored the screams of terrified mortals outside.

"IT IS ALL MINE!" It screeched through what now seemed a nearly insectoid jaws. "NEW BABBAGE! CALEDON! STEELTOPIA! STEELHEAD! THIS WORLD SHALL BE FOREVER..."

The whistle of mortar rounds drowned out the tirade as the monster shuddered under a barrage of Reality Enforcement Bombs.

Minutes later when the dust cleared, Darien found himself half buried in rubble. He was choking on dust, and coughing very red blood down his chin. Half a brick fell from the mound behind him and glanced off his skull as the ground shook again. Opening a swollen eye as best he could, he strained his neck to stare up at the colossus of Lord Smashington as its eyes shone down on him.

"Don't stop to gloat, Doctor Obolensky," whispered Darien as his chest heaved with rattling breaths. "Just finish this...finish..."

"TURN IT OFF!" screamed Qlippothic as she stared at the images glowing within the metal hoop of Aleister's machine. "TURN IT OFF!"

Koen sat in the corner, his hands covering his face and his tail curled into his lap. Aleister turned a dial and the scene of Lumina, Koen, Amarantis and Wren gathered at a black obelisk faded to black.

"My Timewindow has shown you vat vas der most likely outcome of der Doktor's experiment," stated the vampire calmly. "I could not stop Koen from using der Retroaktif Continuum Device before...it interfered vit der frequencies..."

"But it worked this time," interjected the neko.

"I zink you vill agree, zat in zis instance...der ends justified der meanz, Ja? Huntil vee can cure Darien of der madness, vee must keep you avay from him. At all costs."

Qlippothic lay quietly on the table for a few minutes before she spoke again. "Agreed. I will stay here on the Bloodwing's Revenge and help you devise a plan to cure my father. Now please reconnect my motor processors."

Yes, "Awesome" is the word I am looking for.

2010-03-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

My thanks to the Heliograph for bringing this to my attention.

More interruptions!

2010-03-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

Oh, that little brat. She really made a mess of things this time. Nothing an old Reanimator can't fix.

More interesting news...a mission of mercy (and professional courtesy) may be the perfect chance to conduct a test run of my Paradigm Resequencer. Yes, if the variance is to restricted to the Theta bandwidth, I can limit the power supply...

*wanders off*

WREN! Pack your bags! We're taking a little trip down Memory Lane!

Xavael?

2010-03-16T09:08:00.000-07:00

With a rolling sound, Darien pulled himself out from under the line of machines to his chest and looked up at Wren, who had tilted her head to the side to look down at his goggles curiously.

"Wren, what did I just shout?"

"Something like...'Salad Oil?'"

Dr. Mason extricated himself from the underside of the tangle of wood and brass and set up, the wheeled planks shone under the gaslamps as he adjusted the ropes that held them against his back.

"Hrm. The consistency is about what I'd need..." He rad the tip of his black rubber glove along the inside rim of the massive engraved iron hoop. "Though vegetable oil has a lowing burning point. A light mineral oil, perhaps. I'm sure the Clockwinder knows where to find some."

Wren set the toolbox she held for him down and wrapped her arms around his leather apron. "Father? Will your project be ready soon?"

Darien removed his goggles, revealing his eyes now awash in a malevolent emerald aura. "Oh yes, my sweet Wren. Very soon."

The Scientist chuckled as he patted his your assistant's shoulder. Only a few feet away, Qlippothic's brass frame lay helpless on the table, cables wrapping in an out of her circuitry at every point and weaving back into the machine. Darien had already disconnect her voice modulator as punishment for challenging his theories. Her burning eyes glowed brighter as she watched the ceiling, through which one could see a figure clad entirely in black silently securing a device with suction cups to the skylight.

wake me up inside

2010-03-15T09:50:00.000-07:00

"I know you do not remember me," sighed the angel as fingers traced the supple skin of the demon's namesake wings, "that is how we agreed it should be until the Age of Steam..."

A glint of recognition shined in the demon's eyes. "Velad?" His straightened his back as his bewilderment gave way to smiles. "VELAD!" He thumped the angel's back between the wings, ringing the breastplate. "The Valkyries must have taken you after all! Now how can help me cure this poor fool..."

"You only remember Velad! Our love began when the world was young...you must remember!" The angel leaned in and pressed his lips to the demon's.

Bloodwing body trembled as lost eons smashed into his reeling mind like boulders falling onto Pompeii.

"I am sorry to deceive you, Beloved..."

The Founder struggled as he realized he was ensnared by a shining cocoon of protein strands emmanating from the cracked shell of the black neuron, the white and gold gossamer threads were melting against his lips and prying their way into his eyes and ears.

"...but I am not truly here. I am only the sum of your forgotten memories of me. To save your son and our daughter..."

"Our WHAT?"

I held the glowing infant in my arms and raised her to the night sky, the shining orbs of light floating around her like a cradle of stars...

"This cannot be!" he screamed. "What deranged trap did I lay for us from ages forgotten! Darien has tied her to his machine!"

A school of diagrams swarmed about the demon in a riot of sirens and bells. Above even that din he heard the barrier high above shatter, soon eclipsed by the jade avalanche of poison reigning down from above.

"Awaken me, Beloved! Summon me!"

He bounced madly from memory to memory, trying to find a single name. "Forgive me Velad! I can't..."

"MY TRUE NAME, BLOODWING!"

no longer a boy but barely a man was I when I was pursued by

"I CAN'T FIND IT!"

as we kissed the devils cheered and poured shining coin and jewels upon us from the balconies

"WHICH MEMORY? WHICH?"

hold my hand, beloved! push!

His voices of his memories were drowned by the roaring inundation bearing down upon him. The thundering emerald tide ripped him free from the strands as he clawed desperately for something solid to moor himself.

"XAVAEL! XAVAEL! XAV..."

Bloodwing's shape was consumed by the flood, his fading shadow spiraled away in a whirlpool of reanimation serum.

Black tears streamed down the demon's cheeks. "Our child does not stir! We never had a chance to name her, Xavael!"

The angel cradled the silent infant to her breast as she lay. "I sense our daughter is hollow inside, but I shall summon light to grow her soul.

The infant groaned a delicate cry as one pure color after another collected from air around her.

"We shall call her the angels' word for hollow. Welcome to our family, sweet Qlippothic!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2010-03-14T18:44:00.000-07:00

It's the corned beef that binds our two great cultures together, I think...

formspring.me

2010-03-13T18:38:00.001-08:00

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/darienmason

my defenses are down a kiss or a frown

2010-03-11T09:13:00.000-08:00

Bloodwing stared at the black crystalline neuron embedded only a cell's breadth away from the nexus of Darien's life-force. He looked back to the soulblade, still glowing in his pale hands. He furrowed his brow as his crimson wings shook in agitation.

A stray thought from the realm of the Spark above flitted down between his feet, and hovered over the neuron, tapping it frantically with its antennae. The translucent image on its body was that of a knife switch on a panel, upon which was hastily etched PULL INCSOF EMRGNCY.

The demon grimaced. "I get the point! Now get out of the way!" The creature darted as the Founder raised his arms and drove the blade downwards, shattering the neuron. His blade dissolved instantly as he covered his eyes from the flood of light now surrounding him.

"Bloodwing?" A gentle voice echoed. "Can it truly be my beloved? After all this time?"

"Beloved...?" Bloodwing felt a hand rest on his lower back and a warm kiss on his cheek. Was that a breastplate pressed against his chest? He resisted the strong unexpected urge to lean into the embrace and purse his lips. He should not be letting his guard down like this, he thought. He hesitantly opened one eye. "Your affections are quite earnest...but forgive me if..." He opened both eyes wide from shock.

"When..." His eyes drifted from the white feathers to the brass armor of ancient cast. He stared slack-jawed into the rain-cloud eyes of a face with with features delicate and smooth as marble, adorned with shoulder-length hair he was at a loss to place between red and blond. He felt his will dissolving in a sugary tide of fascination.

"When did I fall in love with an angel?"

Did you miss me?

2010-03-02T08:52:00.000-08:00

*CLICK*

Did you miss me, my friends?

We now have a Second Life 2.0. Why not a Darien 2.0? I'm already the worst-kept secret in the Steamlands, aren't I?

Sure, I may have gained a few pounds, perhaps my mustache needs to grow back a bit...and don't be alarmed by the emerald gleam in my eyes. But yes. The Scientist has been back among you for quite some time. With a lovely little feature, I've woven my secret adventures back into the Caravel, starting here.

I've even taken on an assistant, a poor little match girl I found frozen on the streets of New Babbage around Christmas-time, that I promptly revived. I'm quite proud of little Wren, with her sometimes slightly overzealous desire to serve me that drives the flame of her gaslamp heart.

And it gets even better! Qlippothic has returned from her adventures in the deep aether to power my latest experiment! The three of us are going to put a little magic back into New Babbage!

*cackles insanely for a good 30 seconds*

Oh. Is this thing still on? Sorry.

*CLICK*

through my mind I'll spool thread

2010-03-02T06:30:00.000-08:00

Bloodwing descended to the region brain-stem, an island of bone surrounding the nerve that jutted skyward like a mighty red oak. Silently, he circled the nerve, his pale feet matching the bone as his burning red eyes searched for the weakest point.

"There." He pointed with an ebony claw to the coils of energy he saw dancing within. "Where the astral cord joins the body. The seat of his mind and his soul. One strike...and he will cease to be. Nothing left for the Boatman..." He hung his head as he pondered in silence. "But what of me? Will I be freed?" He heard no answer, only the rush of Darien's blood like distant thunder.

The Founder bent his left arm, and placed the back of left hand over his heart, palm outward. He clenched his right fist, and brought it to his chest to grasp it with the left hand.

"Soul Blade."

A gout of black and red energy bubbled from his fist to coalesce to a blade the size of a gladius. Bloodwing braced his knee against the trunk and raised his arms upwards to strike.

"Forgive me, Darien..."

"Forgive me, Greyblade, for asking this of you."

Hands crusted in goblin blood ripped open the mail vest of the comerade who lay in his lap, paralyzed. He had already broken the end of the spear that pierced through his back, above his heart. They were the only ones left alive on the battlefield, strewn with the corpses of monsters and the bodies of mercenaries already rescued from misery by the Choosers of the Slain.

"I would ask the same of you, were I maimed this way, Velad. I shall trace a boat around your shell and pile the timbers beneath you, then wait for the Valkyries will return for you."

He lifted Velad's helm and dropped it to the side. The fallen warrior's blond hair fell over his face. Greyblade carefully parted his locks to fall behind him. For a few moment, they chuckled nervously as they stared into each others eyes. Velad's always beaming, beardless smile to a vacant expression, still as pondwater. A pair of his comrade's tears splashed onto his cheeks and rolled down his face.

"No, Greyblade. I am not what I seem. I am trapped here in this world, my spirit barred from leaving. Helpless like this...the scavengers..."

Greyblade nodded. He sensed something was unusual about his companion, and the blow that severed his spine would have killed any mortal.

At Velad's direction, he placed his friend's hand over his heart, just below the splintered shaft. He lifted Velad's lifeless right arm and curled it into a fist, then rested it on his open palm. Greyblade's eyes widened as a shaft of white and gold stretched from Velad's hands, tinged with a spider lattice of red and black.

Greyblade smiled gently as he kept Velad's hands pressed tightly together. "I knew there was something special about you, my friend. I too have a secret..."

Bloodwing shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the present. "I remembered...Greyblade? That was a thousand years ago...how could I..." He blinked at the traces of white and gold that traced over his soulblade like saplings rustling in the strong breeze. He looked down. His foot was braced squarely upon a black crystal nestled between the bone and the nerve. A demon's neuron. A lost treasure of Bloodwing's own memories that fell from him like dust from a comet as he passed through the eons to lodge in the bodies and souls of his progeny.

He stared back at his blade, and down again at the crystal, that was causing his foot to tingle with a curious, unexplainable urgency. "Surely...this is no trick of Fate..."

thus endeth the lesson

2010-02-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

"Common issues with the reanimation serum involve dosage difficulties with repeated use, and theoretical damage to the cerebellum," continued Frau Lowey with a twinge of nervousness in her voice.

Midway through the introduction the surroundings began to blur and gently twist. Voices started to echo and distort. Bloodwing glanced down at the student version of Darien, his head sinking towards the desk. A flick of his hand to the back of the youth's head as he muttered "Pay attention, Brat!" made him sit up straight in his desk, clarifying the scene again. The headmistress pointed to the aethernaut's backpack as gloves fumbled behind him to seal a jet of escaping oxygen. The clear glassteel tube began to collect droplets of familiar green inside.

The Founder nodded quietly at the descriptions of deadly levels of radiation and nergative pressure, combined with the chemistry of reanimation serum. while sifting through the connections, trying to find a link to Ash or Gematria.

A girl sitting in the front raised her hand, to which the headmistress nodded.

"So Doctor Mason is now a walking reanimation serum factory?"

"Yes, very well put, Miss Corryong!"

That much the demon understood. An apparent serendipity cascading into catastrophe. He nudged the young Darien again with his wing, and the boy raised his hand.

"So if he can't die from an overdose of the serum that won't let him die, what will happen after complete insanity?"

"Well, continual overproduction of serum compounded by radiation levels will result in an exponentially expanding level of mutation..."

The aethernaut's back was still to the class, but they could hear his faceplate shatter.

"...will lead to the final Pandoran phase."

The children screamed and bolted for the exits as a tentacle stretched through the faceplate and climbed towards the ceiling. Why was he sensing fear from the headmistress as a random array of misshapen limbs ripped their way out of the aethersuit? His crimson eyes saw terror in her gaze as she stood in place. A tentacle brushed against her ankle.

"You brought her spirit here as well? STOP THIS!" He waved his arms at the entity he knew surrounded him. "CLASS DISMISSED!"

Frau Lowey vanished, and everything else in the room buckled and fell in upon itself like a crumpled blueprint, until he was again floating in the silver void.

"Darien, a Pandorus...loose in the Steamlands." He shut his eyes again in the silence. "It will absorb everything in its path." He shook his head and sighed. "What now, Spark of Darien? What is left that we can do?"

He felt a hand reach around his wrist. He opened his eyes and found himself in operating theatre of Caledon Regency Hospital. The smell of chemicals mingled with the cloying stench of charred flesh. Lying on the operating table before him was an image of himself, skin seared black from radiation. Rubber tubing hanging from standing vials of reanimation fluid were jammed into him haphazardly where a vessel could be found intact, The shriveled wings under the patient were ready to fall off on their own. bandages tied around the victim's forehead bled through where the rotted horns were sawed away. Even though the dying demon's face was covered by the Soul Mask, Bloodwing winced at the memory of what lay beneath.

"Darien," the patient whispered in a gravelly voice. "Please. End this."

Bloodwing looked away from his destroyed double. His folded his wings and shuddered as the hand released its grip. With dread in his heart, he opened his eyes again. The void was growing dim as the poison outside the Spark reached higher saturation.

"I understand."

Far below him, Bloodwing saw through parting clouds of nightmares a flashing red epicenter in the mindscape. With a snap of his wings, he dove through one of the clouds. The hive of creatures inside parted a tunnel for him as he descended, their myriad eyes staring back at him as he passed with alien visages of hope and sorrow.

take your new-fangled this and your new-fangled that

2010-02-24T09:49:00.000-08:00

"OVER THE TOP!" cried the image of a uniformed Hotspur O'Toole from inside a nearby neuron as Bloodwing tried to batter his way into the great glowing orb that was Darien's Spark. Tentacles of reanimation serum tried to ooze over him as he swatted the tendrils into droplets that slowly coalesced back into a steadily increasing mass.

While he had been transfixed by the workings of the Spark on many occasions, Bloodwing had ever entered this forbidden zone of Darien's mind. While occasionally he could reason with it from the outside, it was the one area he could never penetrate. "Let me in!" roared the demon. "You know damn well who this is! You sent for me!" Instantly, he was absorbed into the light.

He found himself floating in a silver orb. Looking up from where he was pulled through, he could see shadows shifting and growing on the outside of the barrier. Equations and diagrams swam past him like schools of fish. An brass automaton that resembled a great moray eel lined with shining lenses for spots circles itself several times around him as if ready to tighten and crush him. Lights from the beast danced in lines around the demon's pale form, following the trace of every mark on his skin, every ridge of his horns, his crimson hair that billowed behind him, and the striking colors upon his face.

"I am not simply a memory. I am indeed the Founder in spirit form. I entered Darien's mind in sleep, and found myself trapped by his precious poison."

The eel dispersed into a cloud of wires and brass and lenses, reforming into a human shape. While it kept the same color, two lenses adorned the face, very nearly matching in size, but not quite. The wires grew into hair, most notable a handlebar mustache.

"Yes, we have been rivals in this mind for decades. But we are all in danger. Tell me how this happened. I cannot believe he would be so careless as to overdose..."

The figure waved its arms like an overly excited lecturer from the podium, its constituent parts jangling like the contents of a tinkerer's box falling off the carriage and down the ravine. A cloud of small orbs gathered behind it, making a mad choreographed dance to the tunes of protons, electrons, rings of molecular chains and double-helices.

The demon closed his eyes and held his head in frustration. "I do not have a damned sheepskin on my wall from performing years of practical jokes with cadavers at Miskatonic! Condense and simplify!"

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a classroom. He stood in the center aisle, with a dozen desks manned by children to either side, their heads facing forwards for the most part and all apparently oblivious to the sudden presence of a former demon-prince in their midst.

"Now class, I have a special presentation for you," chirped a bespectacled Frau Lowey, standing in front of the room. She gestured towards the medical table with her pointer. The shrouded shape on the table slowly shifted as she spoke.

"Today we are going to discuss the dangers of critical overdose of reanimation fluid. Please welcome Doctor Darien James Mason to the class."

"Hello Doctor Mason!" their voices raised in unison as Frau Lowey pulled back the sheet to reveal an aether suit floating a yard over the table. As the limbs flailed helplessly, the suit gently spun on its side. Through the glass of the faceplate the demon could make out Darien screaming in self-contained silence.

these thoughts I try to hide

2010-02-20T06:47:00.000-08:00

Bloodwing banked and dove through the maze of glistening neurons that rippled with electrical energy, illuminating his way like the full moon reflected on turbulent seas. A glint of jade caught his eye, and froze to hover as the droplet of reanimation fluid the size of his head floated closer.

A gout of flame erupted in the demon's right hand , and he drove his fist through globule, which quickly sizzled and evaporated into nothing. An image of his Seventh Son in laboratory green coalesced inside a nearby neuron.

"You fool! I needed that!"

"You certainly don't," retorted the Founder scornfully. "You've become addicted to your own drug, little cell, and it's destroying this entire brain. Death shall surely follow." The goggled and mustachioed face blinked out without a response."

"Gospodin Bloodwing?" The Founder floated upwards to gaze into a neuron with a memory a lengthy discussion with Baron Wulfenbach.

"Yes, Baron?"

"I've received reports from the medulla. The reanimation serum has found Darien's Spark. We haven't much..." The Baron's image blurred as it's energy was stolen by a neighboring neuron, which projected the image of father figure that Darien despised, cackling maniacally from his throne in New Erebus."

"Yes, Bloodwing! The culmination of my research has lead to your final entrap..."

Bloodwing did not have time to listen to a montage of the Sixth Son's rantings. Diving through to where the emerald aura permeated nearly every cell, he saw a burning star nearly eclipsed by a thick undulating mass of green. The Founder lowered his wings as his angry visage turned to dread. And still, he snapped his wings for a burst of speed as he dove through the morass and into the burning source of Darien's madness.

Let's do this...Anime Style!

2010-02-15T12:41:00.000-08:00

A handsome resemblance to my person done by Miss Deanna Echanique, an artist I had the pleasure to meet at the recent Katsucon.

Hmmm...some chapters of the Histories would make for an excellent webcomic, don't you think?

While I'm at it, let me answer those formspring questions one of you sent me:

• If you had access to a time machine, where and when would be the first place you travel to?

I'd go back to just before a certain tragic point in my own history and knock that bottle of absinthe out of my hand.

• Who would win in a fight: pirates or ninjas?

At sea: Pirates. On land: Ninjas.

• If your house was on fire and you could only grab three things, what would they be?

I have three trunks full of equipment, personal items, and secret formulae for just such an event. You never know when your lab is going to catch fire when you're in my line of work.

I bare my heart for all to see the wonders I've seen

2010-02-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

Thank you so much for the Valentines. Your devotions sustain me through the most difficult chapters of my journals. Know that even as I spend days on end never turning my eyes away from these machines, it is for you, my family and friends, that bring me back to share these discoveries and accomplishments, and yes, failures...all the fruits of my labors.

Your faith in me shall not go to waste. We come from strong stock indeed. Yes...very soon we will Show Them All.

Gloom and Hope

2010-02-05T15:11:00.000-08:00

I read the Steelhead papers with much sadness. Creaky Gloom has found his way to Steelhead and claimed the life of at least one child. I watch my daughter Wren play with her pet rabbit and wonder...

Could I use her as bait to catch the sluagh? She's proven herself to be fearless. Hide a weapon in her rags...hmmm...no. The glow of her gaslamp heart will give her away. To say nothing of the fact that she's half made of iron.

Daughters...yes...that would solve this equation, wouldn't it? Power source...OF COURSE! POWER SOURCE! This will change everything...this will change...EVERYTHING!!!!

*cackles*

I HAVE RETURNED!!!

2010-01-30T16:47:00.000-08:00

Well, sort of. I've created an account on Avatars United, a proto-facebook clone purchased by Linden Labs. As it stands, it's a total frontier out here. From what my twitter friends such as @ordinal and @rivenhomewood are telling me, anyone else can create an account and call it Darien Mason as well, or even as @SecondLie dared to jest, DarienMason Linden! (I gave up on that plan a long time ago...)

Now, let's sit back and watch the chaos...

only heaven's silence for an answer

2010-01-22T11:30:00.000-08:00

sputtering green glow and showers of sparks as the Scientist argues with himself, sprained ligament and tools clattering to the floor in a string of curses

My apologies, my friends.

androids fumbling with emergency power sources, dodging tentacles as a planet's core chimes mournfully towards critical mass

black and red tail arcing from rooftop to rooftop, jungle instincts and borrowed dreams lead crimson eyes over polluted sprawl

I'm just tired. Tired of second-guessing myself over what to disclose. Tired of wondering how long the Stalemate will last. Tired of fretting over what to write and who it's going to piss off. Too much time, not enough energy. A cast of characters arguing over the script, but the spotlight's broken and the costumes are shredded and the theater's roof is leaking.

a school of fish surround the clouded orb, then scatter as a pale hand slams against its inner wall

Another epic, thy want. Grittier and more gruesome than the last with no shark-jumping. All while supposedly hiding in the shadows and Invitation Only.

red wings soar from dream to dream, whispering warning to old allies

Let me get the financials under control first. Then I might shine the flashlight into that corners where the Masons have been hiding.

a glass of bloodwyne poured under a pale mountain moon, ageless hands idly unrolling watchmaker's tools

"All in good time, mein Herr. All in good time..."

triage and ultimatum

2010-01-13T18:02:00.000-08:00

(NOTE: Reference made to Spoilers in the Shadow of the 13 Saga feel free to skip.)

There was a case of spontaneous human combustion today in Babbage, the death toll has yet to be fully counted. I was so busy tending to the wounded I did not have to consider how the flight of this "Willard" so closely resembles my own. Will I meet his fate as well?

And still my work is hampered by reality enforcement devices! I could have saved at least one life with an alchemical compound that will not mix while the citizenry play with these toxic radiations! As we can see from the case of "Willard" above, the devices seem to have minimal effect on Necromatic furmulae. That may explain why I'm still standing.

I am done trying to get it through the Clockwinder's distracted skull that these devices are even more harmful than the soot he loves to roll in like a chazer. It is time to take matters into my own hands.

Wren's been up to something

2010-01-09T18:05:00.000-08:00

I haven't actually slept since the Return. The stasis chamber I used for the gargoyle was...restful, but more of a meditative state than a subconscious one.

What, then, caused me to collapse and lose consciousness last week? One minute I was unpacking some recovered artifacts from Mason Labs that Ama had put in storage (I hear she's engaged? I have to meet the lucky fellow!), the next Wren was crouched over me, terrified. She's been evasive on details.

I need to speak to Wren about the dangers of electricity. The silly girl got herself struck by lightning! She's lucky she didn't blow herself to pieces, I need to replace her frame and her entire cog array! She's lasted longer than some of my other Dolls, true, but at this rate...

London Stolen by Bats!

2010-01-06T07:12:00.000-08:00

And it all goes downhill from there.

A rather entertaining Victorian horror-punk game, played from your browser and linked to your Twitter account. I'll be watching for you.

A Cold Time in Babbage and a Hot Time in Winterfell

2009-12-27T16:19:00.000-08:00

Happy Third Rezday, Hotspur!

WREEEEENNNNN!!!

2009-12-26T13:11:00.000-08:00

By the Founder! What a bloody mess! It's going to take me weeks just to clean up this damage. The Baron tends to be understanding when it comes to lab accidents, but we simply cannot let this happen again.

On the good side, Wren has demonstrated a grasp of the fundamentals of reanimation in her "pet project", as well as a lack of squeamishness necessary for such pursuits. While there is one "bunneh" in Babbage in particular I wouldn't mind inflicting the rigors of Science upon, Wren needs to learn that reanimation serum is a valuable resource, not a toy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to show her how to perform a spinal column transplant.

Writing Style Tag Game. (Damn you Headburro!)

2009-12-22T18:51:00.000-08:00

1)What’s the last thing you wrote? What’s the first thing you wrote that you still have?
See previous post. First thing I still have? I’m sure I have some captions floating around in various boards from the mid-90’s.

2) Write poetry?
Of course.

3) Angsty poetry?
At times.

4) Favorite genre of writing?
Blogfiction

5) Most evil character you’ve ever created?
Hades? The Hydra? Jeremiah before his recovery?

6) Best plot you’ve ever created?
The Assault on New Erebus

7) Coolest plot twist you’ve ever created?
The exorcism of Bloodwing from Darien Mason to reveal the Dr. Mason underneath. Everything else I’ve written stems from that event.

8) How often do you get writer’s block?
Far too often.

9) Write fan fiction?
If any story with the Wulfenbach contingent counts as fanfiction, then yes.

10) Do you type or write by hand?
My handwriting is illegible, even to me.

11) Do you save everything you write?
Yes. Can I ever find it again is another question.

12) Do you ever go back to an idea after you’ve abandoned it?
Recycling is good.

13) What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written?
Qlippothic’s civic anthem, Caledon, my Home!

14) What’s everyone else’s favourite story you’ve written?
Assault on New Erebus, I guess?

15) Ever written romance or angsty teen drama?
Yes and yes.

16) What’s your favourite setting for your characters?
The Steamlands.

17) How many writing projects are you working on right now?
Three.

18) Have you ever won an award for your writing?
I received two honoraria for my contributions to the Caledon Wiki.

19) What are your five favourite words?
Steampunk. Reanimator. Neovictorian. Steamlands. Wulfenbach.

20) What character have you created that is most like yourself?
They all have a bit of me.

21) Where do you get your ideas for your characters?
Mythology. Comic Books. Family members. Song lyrics.

22) Do you ever write based on your dreams?
I don’t remember my dreams anymore.

23) Do you favour happy endings?
“No one in this family gets a happy ending.” - Bloodwing

24) Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Spellcheck saves my life.

25) Does music help you write?
Always. Especially Radio Riel!

26) Quote something you’ve written. Whatever pops in your head.
Do Cyborgs Dream of Electric Goats?

27) Now, who should I tag?
Wren Mornington. Phineas Matova. Beq Janus. Misslily Nightfire.

Loki Eliot's been a very good boy this year...

2009-12-21T08:08:00.000-08:00

He's brought us THIS!

Santa Claus, the Reanimator!

2009-12-20T12:48:00.000-08:00

Gleaned from this site:

One of the most famous miracles associated with Saint Nicholas is the tale of how three seminary students were murdered by an evil butcher, who chopped them up and hid the pieces in barrels. Nicholas reassembled them and brought them back to life. That’s all in the standard biography of the saint. But in France, Saint Nicholas became Père Noel, who was said to have enslaved the murderous butcher and transformed him into the immortal Père Fouettard (Father Flog), who whips bad children while Père Noel brings presents for the good ones.

Not only did he reanimate three children at once (not an easy feat, I can assure you, especially if the pieces were jumbled together. That must be a well-stocked workshop indeed!), but he turned the perpetrator into an undead servant!

No wonder he has such impeccable taste in the scientific equipment he brings me every year. Happy Holidays!

Her pet project

2009-12-19T08:49:00.000-08:00

My new daughter Wren seems to be socializing well, and met a few other constructs in a local establishment last night. This morning she dangled a dead lepus in front of my face, begging to keep it. I gave it a small dose of reanimation serum and told her she needed to fix the rest of the damage herself as a homework assignment. That should keep her busy for a while, and tell me if she has a Spark as well.

I'll turn the darkness into light

2009-12-16T09:49:00.000-08:00

The quiet duties have kept me busy. Frequently I visit the infirmary to check on Miss Clara. I've ordered stock of laboratory equipment for the Consulate. Occasionally I'll unwind at one of the midnight shows or rousing pub crawl.

Last night was different. Those who have suffered a trauma will tell you that there are times when one feels exactly as they did at their moment of greatest terror, and are then drawn back into that very scenario in their minds.

Maybe it was just a cat yowling in the snow. But I swear, ever fiber of my being told me it was the neko that my father had raised as his servant. The one to which I had given my heart. It was in this same sort of merciless December wind that I hacked off the padlock to my father's supply shed and pulled Lucian from the toxic fumes that bled off into the night air.

I had abandoned my correspondence with the Baron in mid-sentence and bolted through the twisted streets of Babbage. I made out the ever-present Clockwinder's stoic visage on the corner. I'm sure he suspected more of my "usual madness" as I called out my lover's name. I had no time for another leisurely double-distracted conversation this night.

My intellect knew I wouldn't find her. But I did find someone else.

The miserable waif had curled up on the manhole cover, trying to find protection from Winter's embrace in the cloak of fetid steam. The wind was too strong tonight. The added humidity and quite possibly the vapors from the sewers below may have hastened her demise.

The Urchins of Babbage cared for their own, and several shelters and inns welcomed and fed them, especially in this weather. What could explain this? I examined her pupils for signs of life. They were swollen and infected. Effectively blind. Her hands clutched tight a box of matches. A pile of charred splinters lay on the slick surface of the manhole cover.

The story was clear to me. She had been enslaved by some wretched excuse for a guardian, and she had burned her eyes away making the matches without even the cheapest pair of goggles for protection. Did she flee her Master, or was she turned out to raise funds for his loathsome ends?

"Herr Scientist! What is going on over there?"

I could not answer as I brought her into the laboratory and lay her frozen form down on the table. I rifled the inventory, screaming for a turnkey and finding none. This was not Mason Labs. Tools were not arranged and supplied to my specifications. Did I give up? NO! Not when I could hear her soul crying out to me, begging for another chance at a life squandered by another! I was a combat medic, dammit! You think I don't know how to improvise?

The matchbook fell from her hand as her body thawed. I opened it. There was one matchstick left. Yes, yes...it was all clear to me now. On the Festical of Lights, no less! I removed the stick carefully, and placed a coin in the box. I wrapped her hand tightly around the box.

"Thank you for the match, little one. Here is your payment...not only shall you live again, but you never suffer the cold again.

I replaced her diseased heart with an oil-burning engine and a pilot light. I bade her to wake, and she arose, staring down at her new Father adoringly with brand new eyes!

The Christmas revelry at the saloon across town died down as the residents leaned out of the doors and windows to hear that loony old Scientist at the Consulate bellowing SHE'S ALIVE SHE'S ALIVE SHE'S ALIVE...

I will endure any indignity, suffer any punishment, pay any price, so long as I am permitted to continue that practice which I consider the pinnacle of my training as a master of Science and the Hidden Arts. The most precious resource of the Steamlands is not coal or cavorite, My Friends. It is its children. And as long as YOU continue to waste their lives in the factories and mines and the most unspeakable places and toss them away like scrap...in the forests, the canals, the graveyards, the sewers and snowdrifts and shacks like my sweet Lucian...I will rescue them and care for them as my own! Will it take an ARMY of them patrolling the streets to ensure that another waif need never awake with a windup heart again? THEN SO BE IT!!!

A Friend in Need

2009-11-30T11:34:00.000-08:00

This is the time of year when we go out of the way to help the unfortunate. There seem to be many more of them this year. Some of them have lost everything. Some are teetering on the brink, quietly praying for help before frustration turns to full despair.

I have never understood why so many in my country despise the government so much that they're not willing to fund it so it can, in turn, help those among us who need it most. An ounce of prevention is indeed worth a pound of cure if it stops the cascade. Lack of daycare leads to lack of employment. Lack of internet access means isolation from contact with the ones who support us and the fonts of knowledge that can help us improve our desperate situation.

Dame Kiralette Kelly made the Steamlands and Second Life proud by running this year's Relay For Life. She gave her time and energy to help us fight cancer. Now, my friends, with great humility, she asks us for our help. Were it not for a change in my fortune just today, I would be a month or two away from holding my hand out as well. I do not have much to give, but I will give.

That is what friends are for, is it not?

Et Tu, Hotspur?

2009-11-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

It seems my friend Hotspur Otoole has become the latest victim of Linden Labs, or "Labbies" as the astute Crap Mariner has begun to call them. I guess calling the Labs Stalinist was one step over the line?

We will all be watching Linden Labs ticket #4051-7043947 very closely.

Colonel Otoole, please enjoy the amenities on the Clockwork Caravel in the meantime. Lady Christine left a banana bread in the pantry and the bar is fully stocked.

Can't a Time Lord celebrate his birthday whenever he wants?

2009-11-21T16:27:00.000-08:00

I'll leave that to the experts. But it was a lot of fun!

Of Clanks and Cultists

2009-11-17T12:05:00.000-08:00

As much as I miss Steelhead, my face is too familiar there. To keep the peace, I will keep my distance from the previous home unless the need is dire. My friends know where to find me.

The metropolis of New Babbage provides the anonymity I need. There is always an influx of new residents who don't remember the Monster Hand epidemic, or even know me from the other Mason who lives here (with whom I have no relation).

Praise the Founder I had those crates of inoculation guns stored from the last epidemic. One zombie plague is bad enough. Two strains in the same area can lead to cross-contamination and dangerous new pathogens.

I also solved a murder mystery with Miss Kamenev, who saw right through me.

I cannot thank the Baron and the Consulate enough for use of their facilities. The gargoyle's spirit would have perished had I not the materials on hand. After the Equinox his golem form quickly crumbled. But now as an avian clank, he flies again.

Herr Baron has asked me to watch or the Spark urchin, Clara. Indeed she is quite the handful. She apparently foiled the invention of another young Spark named Triky, who built a school-smashing, teacher-eating clank. I was not there at that incident but I did intervene when she and her little friends tried to repair a multi-purpose construct of Captain Mauriac. Note to self: keep ALL talking birds far from the premises when working on a heavily armed clank!

Now it seems I have a nemesis. Mr. Yoyo Underby. His Qabalistic knowledge rivals my own. I thought as a colleague I could convince him to use his skills for the good of the community, and capture the kidnapper of urchins loose in the streets, this Creaky Gloom. But Underby played me for a fool!

And now Tenk blames me for his entrapment.

I shall see you free, Clockwinder. I swear!

all the years I walked unknown behind the faces I'd assumed

2009-11-16T17:44:00.000-08:00

Through enchantment you may find this tome sitting upon on your desk or shelf or coffee table, on your favorite tree stump or box of gears. Is it truly there? Your fingers pass through it, yet you can read the pages that seem to know when to turn when you have taken your fill from the open leaves.

The crest embossed on the front is unmistakable. The ziggurat with a pyre at its peak, flanked by batlike wings. As the pages turn you catch scents that are familiar, perhaps not pleasurable but somehow reassuring. It may be absinthe, soot, sulfur, or the lingering vapors of reanimation serum.

Handwritten inside the front cover, addressed to you by name:

It is my dedication you and the many friends I have made in the Steamlands and beyond that has compelled me to return. As a fugitive, the smog and brick canyons grant me anonymity. The sea of tuxedos in allow me to blend in with the other dapper gents on the ballroom floor. The tunnels beneath the streets echo my whispers to your ears.

I have made my presence known to many of you. Some of you have glimpsed me as I raced in silence from one danger to another. Some of you have prayed for my return. I thank you for your prayers, for they have been answered. For you, I write this book so enchanted that only those I trust may see and read.

Is this selflessness or sheer folly to return with nothing more than the clothes on my back and an inoculation pistol? Only time will tell. As Surgeon, Sorcerer and Spark, I will help you however I can, whenever I can. My life has no meaning otherwise.

All I ask in return is that you refer to me in your tales only as "The Scientist", and that you never publish an image of my face or otherwise explicitly reveal my identity. In this regard, my life is in your hands.

Be Well, my Friend.

The Scientist

The book then vanishes in the blink of an eye. Were you only dreaming?

Final Orders

2009-09-15T07:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Ash,

There has been an explosion at Mason Labs. Steelhead is burning, and my life's work is strewn as slag across Port Harbor. All of this carnage is my fault. Exile or no, I cannot simply sit and watch.

By the time you finish recharging, I will have donned my aethersuit and jumped ship through the airlock. I have timed my escape to enter the gravity of the wormhole we dicovered earlier. I detect manmade radio frequencies emmanating from it, but I know not the origin. I pray who or whatever is on the other side can get me home.

Find Gematria. She has been missing for too long. If the Timekeepers have harmed her, you are authorized to punish them.

Both of you need to analyze the energies of that explosion. After the lightning and the chain reaction I saw a beam of purest light...nothing I sequestered in my laboratory had that kind of frequency. Search your archives. Prophecies seem to be at work.

I will see you again, My Children, in a happier place. My Love for you will sustain me wherever I find myself, as it will sustain you.

~Darien

The Fourth Year

2009-09-12T05:39:00.000-07:00

entropy
fading his life away
before the world can ever see
dissapating
evaporating...

An Experiment Completed

2009-09-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

I would like to thank Clockwork Couture for their patronage for the past two months. The loss of Linden Labs was Clockwork Couture's gain. This was my first foray as a professional creative writer, and was thrilled the entire time. I gleefully accepted the challenge of writing new adventures of the Mason family to the tune of a J. Peterman catalog. The newest episodes of Gematria's latest mission can still be read on their blog.

As soon as I re-establish contact with Gematria, her adventure with the Timekeepers will continue in this journal.

I will be more than happy to discuss product placements of virtual as well brick-and-mortar projects privately.

~Dr. Darien Mason

A Gift from the Dauphine

2009-08-11T12:55:00.000-07:00

Much thanks, Lady Aeon!

The Doctor is IN, Baby!

2009-08-09T07:25:00.001-07:00

Hold my calls, Sparky...